LIBRARY 
^University  of  California^ 

IRVINE 


THE  STOBY  OF 


FORT     FRATISTE 


BY 

CAPTAIN  CHAKLES  KING,  U.S.A., 

Author  of  "  The  Colonel's  Daughter,"  "  Between  The  Lines,"  Etc. 


Adapted  from  the  drama  of  the  same  name  of  which,  in  collaboration 

with  EVELYN  GREENLEAF  SUTHERLAND  and  EMMA  V. 

SHERIDAN  FRY,  he  is  the  author. 


F    TENNYSON  NEELY, 
Publisher. 

CHICAGO.  NEW  YORK. 


PS 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  F.  TENNYSON  NEELY- 


PREFACE. 

There  is  a  story  within  a  story  which  should  perhaps 
be  told  in  presenting  to  the  indulgent  reader  this 
tale  of  army  life.  Three  years  ago  I  was  surprised 
and  pleased  by  an  invitation  to  collaborate  in  the 
preparation  of  an  army  play,  for  the  invitation  came 
from  those  who  had  won  high  honors  in  their  chosen 
field.  The  months  spent  in  the  gradual  develop 
ment  of  our  draina  were  full  of  pleasure,  yet  great 
was  our  rejoicing  when  the  work  was  done.  But 
then  came  blighting  illness  to  her  who  was  its 
inspiration  and  long,  long  months  of  utter  seclusion. 
Then  followed  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  the 
manuscript  story  of  the  play — a  manuscript  of  which 
there  was  no  copy,  for  it  had  not  even  been  typed. 
Finally  came  the  suggestion  that  the  story  be 
promptly  rewritten  and  published,  not  in  the  origi 
nal  four  parts  corresponding  to  the  four  acts,  but 
in  twenty  chapters  wherein  the  entire  tale  might  be 
told,  and  this  was  the  work  assigned  to  me. 

Reading  over  now  the  completed  pages,  I  realize 
how  very  much  I  have  missed  the  guiding  hand  of 
one, — the  valued  suggestions  of  the  other, — of  my 
gifted  and  gracious  collaborators,  and  how  many 
apologies  I  owe  to  both.  C.  K. 

JUNE,  1895. 


FOET  FRAYNE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  snow  was  mantling  the  wild  waste  of  barren 
prairie  stretching  toward  the  white  peaks  of  the  Big 
Horn,  shrouding  its  desolation,  hiding  its  accus 
tomed  ugliness,  and  warning  scout,  soldier  or  cow 
boy  to  look  well  to  his  landmarks  before  venturing 

O 

forth  upon  its  trackless  sea,  for  even  the  cattle  trails 
were  hidden,  and  the  stage  road  lost  to  view.  Be 
tween  its  banks  of  glistening  white  the  Platte  rolled 
black  and  swollen,  for  a  rare  thing  had  happened— 
one  so  rare  that  old  trappers  and  traders  said  they 
never  knew  the  like  before  since  first  they  sighted 
' '  Larruie  "  peak  or  forced  the  passes  of  the  Medicine 
Bow — there  had  been  three  days  of  softly-falling 
8ii ow,  and  not  a  whisper  of  a  Wyoming  gale.  There 
had  been  a  thaw  in  the  Laramie  plains,  preceded  by  a 
soft  south  wind  in  the  Park  country  of  Colorado, 
and  whole  fleecy  hillsides,  said  the  natives,  were 
"slumping  off"  in  the  upper  waters  of  the  river,  and 
that  was  how  the  Platte  came  to  be  tossing  high  its 
wintry  wave  under  the  old  stockade  at  the  ferry  and 
sweeping  in  power,  instead  of  sleeping  in  peace,  be 
neath  its  icy  blanket,  around  the  huge  bluff  where 
waved  the  colors  of  old  Fort  Frayne. 


6  FORT    FRAYNE. 

The  roadway  winding  from  the  river-side  up  to 
the  adjutant's  office  at  the  southern  end  of  the  garri 
son,  was  still  unbroken.  The  guard  at  the  ferryhouse 
had  been  withdrawn,  and  as  for  the  veteran  stockade, 
sole  relic  of  the  early  days  of  the  overland  stage 
route,  it  looked  now  in  its  silence  and  desolation, 
heavily  capped  as  it  was  with  its  weight  of  snow, 
like  some  huge,  flattened-out  Charlotte  de  Russe,  at 
least  that  was  what  Ellis  Farrar,  daughter  of  the  post 
commander,  likened  it  to  as  she  peered  from  the 
north  window  of  their  cosy  quarters  on  the  crest  of 
the  bluff.  "And  to  think  of  Christmas  being  almost 
here,  and  not  a  chance  of  getting  a  wagon  through 
from  the  railway,"  she  mumured,  "and  I  so  longed 
to  make  it  bright  and  joyous  for  mother.  It  is  al 
ways  her  saddest  season." 

These  low-toned  words  were  addressed  to  Captain 
Leale  of  her  father's  regiment,  a  strong,  soldierly-look 
ing  man  of  nearly  forty  years,  who,  with  lield  glass 
in  hand,  had  been  studying  the  wintry  landscape  to 
the  north  and  east.  He  turned  as  the  young  girl 
spoke,  and,  lowering  his  glasses,  followed  her  eyes 
and  looked  anxiously  across  the  bright  army  parlor 
to  where  the  lire-light  from  the  blazing  logs  upon 
the  hearth  fell  full  upon  a  matronly  woman  whose 
luxuriant  hair  was  already  turning  gray  and  whose 
sweet,  patient  face  bore  the  unmistakable  trace  of 
deep  sorrow.  She  was  seated  at  a  desk,  an  unfinished 
letter  before  her,  and  had  paused  in  the  midst  of  her 
writing  and  dropped  off  into  the  dreamland  of  far 
away  scenes  and  memories.  From  a  drawer  in  the 


FORT    FRAYNE.  7 

desk  she  had  taken  what  was  evidently  a  portrait,  a 
small  photograph,  and  had  been  intently  studying  it 
while  the  only  other  occupants  of  the  room  were  busy 
at  the  window. 

' '  It  is — you  know — Royle's,  my  brother's  picture. " 
whispered  Ellis.  "  I  know  it,  though  I  haven't  seen 
it  in  ever  so  long — five  years  I  think." 

Again  the  captain  bowed,  inclining  his  head  in  the 
slow,  grave  way,  that  was  habitual  with  him.  "I 
know,"  he  said,  briefly,  and  the  gaze  he  fixed  upon 
his  colonel's  wife  was  full  of  anxiety  and  sympathy. 
"I  have  often  wished  that  your  father's  promotion 
had  brought  him  to  any  other  garrison  in  the  army. 
You  remember  he  was  stationed  here  when  lieuten 
ant-colonel,  and  it  was  from  here  that  Royle  went  to 
West  Point." 

' '  I  remember  it  but  vaguely.  That  was  nine  years 
ago,  captain,  and  I  was  but  seven.  We  saw  him  during 
his  cadet  furlough  two  years  later — in  1883 — and 
that  was  the  last.  Mother  only  rarely  speaks  of  him, 
and  father,  never,  unless — unless,"  she  added,  with 
timid  appeal,  "he  does  to  you.  Does  he?" 

Captain  Leale  paused  a  moment  before  replying. 
Only  that  very  morning  had  his  colonel  talked  with 
him,  the  most  trusted  of  his  troop  commanders,  of 
Ellis's  long-missing  brother.  Only  within  an  hour  had 
Farrar  sought  again  his  advice  as  to  one  whom  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  name,  and  referred  to  in  shame 
and  sorrow  as  "my  eldest,"  and  only  rarely  as  "my 
sou."  First  born  of  the  little  flock,  the  boy  had  been 
given  his  father's  name.  The  only  child  for  several 


8  FORT    FRAYNE. 

years,  petted,  spoiled,  over-indulged  by  a  fond,  pure- 
hearted  mother,  then  reared  among  the  isolated  army 
garrisons  of  the  far  West,  the  handsome,  headstrong, 
daring  youth  but  all  too  early  had  shown  a  tendency 
to  wild  companionship  and  reckless  living.  Fev>- 
men  in  the  cavalry  arm  of  the  service  were  held  in 
higher  esteem  than  Colonel  Royle  Farrar, who, entering 
the  service  with  the  first  regiment  to  be  sent  to  the 
front  from  New  York  City  in  the  spring  of  1861, 
had  fought  his  way  to  the  command  of  a  brigade  in 
the  last  campaign,  and  then  been  commissioned  as  a 
junior  major  of  cavalry  at  the  reorganization  of  the 
regular  army.  The  president  himself  had  tendered 
Farrar,  long  afterwards,  a  cadetship  for  his  son,  and 
it  was  gratefully  yet  almost  fearfully  accepted.  The 
mother  could  not  be  brought  to  believe  her  boy  would 
not  strive  to  do  honor  to  his  name  at  the  Point.  The 
father  dreaded  that  the  wayward,  reckless  fellow,  in 
tolerant  of  restraint  or  discipline,  would  merit  pun 
ishment,  and,  being  punished,  would  resent.  Royle 
stood  the  ordeal  only  fairly  well  at  first.  Demerits 
in  profusion  and  "light  prison"  twice  had  clouded 
his  record  before  the  furlough  year,  but  the  mother's 
eyes  rejoiced  in  the  sight  of  the  handsome,  stalwart 
young  soldier  after  his  two  years  of  rigorous  train 
ing,  even  though  the  mother  heart  grieved  over  the 
evidences  of  dissipation  and  vice  which  speedily 
marred  the  long-looked-for  days  of  his  vacation.  Be 
tween  him  and  his  father  had  been  more  than  one 
stormy  scene  before  Royle  returned  to  the  academy — 
interviews  from  which  the  senior  issued  pale,  stern, 


FORT    FKAYNE.  9 

sorrowful;  the  young  man  gloomy,  sullen,  and  more 
than  half  defiant.  In  his  second  class  year  came  tid 
ings  of  misdemeanor  that  almost  broke  the  mother's 
heart.  Farrar  hastened  from  the  distant  frontier  to 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson  expecting  nothing  short  of 
dismissal  for  the  boy,  and  promising  the  mother  to 
fetch  him  at  once  to  her,  but  the  court,  even  in  sen 
tencing,  had  signed  a  plea  for  mercy  for  the  cadet 
who  bore  so  honored  a  name,  a  plea  that  his  classmates 
would  never  have  indorsed,  and  the  president  re 
mitted  the  punishment  to  a  term  of  confinement  to 
barracks  and  camp.  The  father  wasted  no  words  in 
reproach.  He  pointed  out  to  the  son  that  this  was 
his  last  chance.  Royle,  Jr. ,  had  sullenly  responded 
that  his  disgrace  was  due  entirely  to  spies  and  tale 
bearers  and  showed  neither  contrition  nor  promise  of 
amend.  A  year  later  came  the  last  straw.  Reported 
for  a  violation  of  regulations  in  having  liquor  in  his 
possession,  Cadet  Farrar  wrote  a  lying  explanation 
to  the  effect  that  it  was  placed  in  his  room  by  parties 
unknown  to  him,  and  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
him  into  trouble,  but  he  had  been  seen  "off  limits" 
at  a  questionable  resort  in  the  neighboring  village 
the  previous  night,  had  been  drinking  and  card  play 
ing  there,  had  lost  money  and  refused  to  pay,  had 
been  seen  returning  by  two  lower  classmen  to  whom 
he  offered  liquor,  then  staggered  to  his  quarters  only 
an  hour  or  so  before  reveille  roll  call.  He  was  placed 
in  close  arrest  after  being  confronted  with  the  array 
of  evidence,  and  that  night  deserted  and  was  seen  no 
more.  Again  the  colonel  made  his  mournful  pil- 


10  FORT    FRAYNE. 

grimage  to  the  Point,  and  old  comrades  pityingly, 
sorrowfully  told  him  the  whole  story.  He  went  back 
to  his  regiment  looking  ten  years  older,  took  his  wife 
and  two  younger  children,  "Will  and  Ellis,  to  his 
heart,  and  from  that  day  never  spoke  again  his  first 
born's  name.  It  had  been  for  years  his  custom  to 
sign  all  official  papers  in  full — Royle  Farrar  — but 
the  very  sound  of  the  Christian  name  seemed  from 
that  time  on  to  give  him  distress,  and  R.  Farrar  be 
came  his  signature  personal  or  official. 

The  young  man  was  heard  of  occasionally,  how 
ever,  borrowing  money  from  officers  and  friends  and 
relatives  on  his  father's  account.  Then  he  went  to 
sea,  then  returned  to  New  York  and  wrote  a  long 
letter  to  his  mother,  telling  how  he  mourned  the  old 
days,  and  was  going  to  lead  a  new  life,  and  she  too 
gladly  sent  him  all  the  money  she  had.  Then  there 
was  another  interval,  and,  after  a  year,  he  again  ap 
peared  as  a  suppliant  for  aid.  He  had  been  des 
perately  ill,  he  said,  and  kind,  but  poor,  humble 
people  had  cared  for  him,  and  they  ought  to  be  re 
warded.  The  mother  would  have  sent  again  her 
last  cent  to  him  direct,  but  Farrar  interposed.  His 
check  went  to  a  trusted  friend,  with  instructions  to 
investigate,  and  that  friend  was  his  old  comrade, 
Major  Feu  ton,  and,  as  he  expected,  it  proved  only 
another  lie. 

Then  there  came  an  era  of  apparent  prosperity, 
and  now  the  poor  mother  in  joy  besought  her 
husband  to  recognize  the  son,  for  he  reported  him 
self  in  good  employ,  with  a  fair  salary  and  brilliant 


FORT    FRAYNE.  11 

prospects.  He  even  sent  a  draft  to  repay  a  small 
portion  of  what  lie  termed  his  father's  loan,  but  this 
was  soon  followed  by  a  draft  on  his  father  for 
double  the  amount,  and  later  another,  and  then 
letters  of  inquiry  came  from  his  employer,  and  then 
rueful  complaint  of  how  that  trusting  person  had 
been  swindled.  In  her  agony  of  grief  and  disap 
pointment  the  mother's  health  was  giving  away,  and 
Farrar  concealed  from  her  particulars  even  worse — 
that  their  wretched  son  had  won  the  love  of  his  em 
ployer's  only  daughter,  and  that  she  had  followed  him 
from  her  father's  house.  There  had  been  a  secret 
marriage.  There  was  another  Royle.  This  news 
had  come  to  the  colonel  but  a  day  or  two  before.  It 
was  this  that  had  unsealed  his  lips  and  turned  him 
to  Captain  Leale  for  counsel  and  support. 

"My  daughter,"  wrote  the  bereaved  father,  "was 
the  idol  of  my  heart,  the  image  of  the  mother  who 
was  taken  from  her  long  years  ago.  Yet  she  turned 
from  me  in  the  passion  of  her  love  for  him,  and 
they  have  gone  God  alone  knows  where.  If  you  can 
find  him,  say  that  though  he  has  robbed  me  poor,  I  can 
forgive  him  all  if  he  will  but  be  good  and  kind  to 
her.  She  was  delicately  nurtured,  as  carefully  edu 
cated  as  your  own  daughter  could  be,  sir,  and  she 
was  more  to  me,  for  she  was  my  all.  I  own  that, 
having  married  him,  her  duty  was  with  her  husband, 
but  why  should  she  have  hidden  that  marriage  from 
her  father?  My  own  fortune  is  well-nigh  wrecked, 
but  she  has  her  mother's  little  portion — enough,  if 


12  FORT    FKAYNE. 

lie  can  resist  his  craving  for  drink  and  gambling,  to 
support  them  in  comfort.  I  pray  you  help  me  save 
my  child." 

All  this  sad  history  was  now  well  known  to 
Malcolm  Leale,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  sorrow  as 
he  bent  them  upon  the  gentle,  yearning  woman  at 
the  desk,  lost  in  her  study  of  her  first-born's  face. 
Ellis  in  turn  stood  watching  him.  She  was  a  girl  of 
sixteen,  yet  seemed  older  far,  because  of  the  years 
in  which  she  had  been  her  mother's  companion  and 
closest  friend.  Then  as  he  made  no  answer  to  her 
query  and  seemed  plunged  in  thought,  she  turned 
and  stepped  lightly  over  to  the  mother's  side. 

"Day  dreaming  again,  Queen  Mother?"  she 
asked,  in  the  half-playful  way  that  was  habitual 
with  her.  "  If  you  don't  go  on  with  your  letter 
to  Will,  it  won't  be  ready  for  the  courier.  Captain 
Leale  tells  me  they  are  to  send  one  out  at  noon." 

"Will  they  really?  "  asked  Mrs.  Farrar,  rousing 
suddenly.  "Why,  I  had  given  up  all  hopes  of 
hearing  from  him  this  week,  or  of  getting  a  letter 
to  him.  Who  is  to  go,  captain?  The  pass  must  be 
breast  deep  in  snow." 

"I  think  not,  Mrs.  Farrar.  There  was  very 
little  wind,  you  know,  and  the  fall  seems  to  have 
been  very  uniform.  Corporal  Rorke  and  a  couple 
of  my  men  are  getting  ready  now.  The  colonel 
was  only  waiting,  hoping  that  there  might  be  still 
some  news  from  Red  Cloud." 

"Why,  how  can  it  come?  The  wires  are  down, 
the  road  hidden,  and  the  river  unfordable,"  said 


FORT    FKATNE.  13 

Ellis,  eagerly.  "The  last  news  was  bad  enough.  I 
own  I  don't  want  to  hear  further." 

Over  Leale's  face  a  graver  shadow  fell.  "There 
are  Indian  riders  who  could  easily  make  the 
journey,"  he  said.  "  Crow  Knife,  for  instance, 
whom  the  colonel  sent  over  with  the  scouts  five  days 
aero.  The  fact  that  he  hasn't  returned  makes  me 

O 

hopeful  that  matters  are  quieting  down,"  but  here 
he  turned  again  to  the  window  to  level  his  glass 
upon  the  broad  rolling  expanse  of  white,  stretching 
in  wave  after  wave  to  the  bleak  horizon. 

"God  forbid  there  should  be  further  trouble," 
said  Mrs.  Farrar,  slowly,  lingeringly  replacing  the 
portrait  in  its  drawer.  "Surely  the  general  has 
force  enough  there  now  to  keep  those  Indians  in 
check,"  she  ventured,  appealingly. 

Leale  lowered  his  binocular  again.  "He  has, 
provided  the  renegades  captured  on  the  Cheyenne 
are  not  sent  back  there.  Those  people  should  not 
be  taken  to  the  agency.  They  are  Minneconjous, 
Uncapapas,  Brules,  a  turbulent,  ill-conditioned  lot, 
who  make  trouble  wherever  the  others  are  peaceably 
disposed.  They  should  have  been  disarmed  and  dis 
mounted  and  put  under  guard  at  Fort  Robinson  until 
this  question  is  settled.  What  I  fear  is  that  Red 
Wolf's  band  is  still  out  and  is  defying  the  agent, 
and  that  the  revolt  will  spread  to  Kill  Eagle's 
village.  If  they  go  on  the  warpath,  some  of  our 
best  scouts  will  be  involved.  That  boy,  Crow 
Knife,  is  worth  his  weight  in  gold,  but  his  father 
and  mother  would  follow  Kill  Eagle." 


14  FORT    FRAYNE. 

' '  Do  you  think — do  you  think  that  if  they  should 
revolt,  we— our  command — would  have  to  be 
ordered  out?  "  asked  Ellis,  anxiously. 

"  It  might  be,"  he  replied,  cautiously,  "  but  I  am 
hoping  that  no  winter  campaign  is  in  store  for  us. 
Think  of  a  march  over  such  a  waste  as  that,"  and 
he  pointed  to  the  snow-clad  scene  before  them. 
"We  couldn't  cross  the  Platte  this  side  of  Laramie, 
either,  even  if  the  stream  were  fordable.  The  run- 
uing  ice  would  cut  the  horses  from  under  us." 

Out  across  the  parade,  clear,  yet  soft,  as  though 
muffled  by  the  snow,  the  cavalry  trumpet  began 
sounding  orderly  call. 

"Rorkeand  his  men  will  start  as  soon  as  they 
have  had  dinner,  Mrs.  Farrar,"  said  Leale,  "and 
[  must  see  the  colonel  before  they  go.  I  will  send 
For  your  letters."  He  took  up  the  glasses  again  for 
3iie  last  survey,  Ellis  narrowly  watching  him,  while 
lier  mother  went  on  with  her  writing.  For  a 
Moment  the  search  seemed  barren  of  result,  as  be- 
Fore,  but  suddenly  Leale  started,  stepped  nearer  the 
window,  and  riveted  his  attention  on  one  spot. 
Ellis  quickly  noted  it. 

"  You  see  some  one?  "  she  asked. 

A  brief  nod  was  the  only  answer.  Then,  glass  in 
land,  the  captain  suddenly  turned  to  a  side  door, 
et  himself  out  into  another  room,  and  thence  to  the 
>uter  gallery  surrounding  the  house.  Here  his  view 
>vas  unobstructed.  Two  gentlemen  were  coming  up 
.he  pathway  from  the  adjutant's  office,  and  a  soldier 
;ii  immaculate  uniform  and  side  arms  following  a 


FORT    FRAYXE.  15 

short  distance  behind,  indicated  that  the  one  in  uni 
form  was  the  post  commander — the  elder  one,  a  dis 
tinguished-looking  man  of  nearly  sixty,  whose  pointed 
mustache  and  imperial  were  well-nigh  as  white  as 
the  new-fallen  snow  about  him,  whose  complexion, 
bronzed  by  years  of  exposure  to  prairie  sun  and 
wind,  was  ruddy  brown,  almost  like  Russian 
leather. 

Over  Leale's  face  fell  the  same  shadow  of  anxiety 
that  was  noted  when  he  stood  gazing  in  silence  upon 
the  sorrowing  mother  at  the  desk  within.  The 
colonel  was  talking  in  an  earnest  manner  to  the  man 
at  his  side,  a  civilian,  so  far  as  his  dress  would  indi 
cate,  yet  a  civilian  with  the  erect  carriage  and  brisk 
step  of  a  soldier  —a  handsome  fellow,  too,  of  perhaps 
seven  and  twenty  years.  Leale  turned  from  them 
with  some  impatience. 

"  I'd  bet  a  month's  pay,  if  I  ever  bet  a  cent  in  the 
world,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "that  old  Fen  ton's 
nephew  had  no  thought  whatever  of  hunting  when 
he  came  here  in  midwinter.  The  question  is,  What 
else  has  brought  him  besides  what  I  have  already 
learned,  and  why  he  haunts  Farrar  from  morning 
till  night?  " 

At  the  window  the  fair,  girlish  face  brightened 
an  instant  at  sight  of  the  coming  soldier,  then 
clouded  as  quickly  as  the  civilian  came  in  view. 
"Mr.  Ormsby  again !"  murmured  Ellis  below  her 
breath,  and  the  bow  of  recognition  which  she  gave 
him  in  answer  to  the  quick  uplifting  of  his  sealskin 
cap  lacked  all  of  the  warmth  and  interest  that 


16  FORT    FKAYNE. 

beamed  in  Ormsby's  face  at  sight  of  her.  Seeing 
Leale,  the  colonel  pressed  on  to  join  him  on  the 
northward  porch.  Catching  sight  of  Ellis,  the 
civilian  fell  back,  entered  the  gateway,  and  came 
briskly  to  the  door.  An  instant  later  and  his  step 
was  heard  in  the  hallway.  Ellis  turned  to  the 
window  in  something  not  unlike  aversion.  The 
mother  it  was  who  rose  eagerly  to  welcome  the 
coming  guest. 

"Prompt  as  ever,  Mr.  Ormsby,"  she  cried  as  he 
entered  the  parlor,  fresh  and  rosy  from  the  keen  air. 
"I  wish  you  might  teach  my  husband  to  be  more 
punctual  at  luncheon." 

"Indeed,  I  feared  I  was  detaining  him,  Mrs. 
Farrar.  He's  merely  stopped  one  moment  to  speak 
with  Captain  Leale.  He  was  showing  me  over  the 
barracks.  You  have  no  idea  how  vividly  interesting 
all  this  is  to  me.  I  have  shouldered  the  musket  with 
the  Seventh  for  eight  years,  and  have  never  visited 
an  army  post  before." 

"  Oh,  didn't  you  see  your  uncle  when  he  was  at 
Riley?  He  used  to  write  to  my  husband  of  you 
time  and  again,  and  of  your  pride  in  your  regi 
ment." 

"No,  he  was  in  New  York  on  recruiting  service 
then,  a  few  years  ago,  you  remember,  and  we  used 
to  get  him  up  to  the  armory  or  to  our  camp  occasion 
ally." 

"  And  he  was  very,  very  kind  to  my  poor  boy,  my 
Royle,"  said  Mrs.  Farrar,  wistfully,  searching  the 
face  of  her  guest,  "and  when  you  came  to  us  with 


FORT   FRAYXE.  17 

Betters  from  our  old  friend,  for  we  had  known  him 
before  our  marriage,"  she  continued,  a  faint  color 
rising  to  her  cheek,  ' '  it  seemed  almost  like  welcom 
ing  him.  There  was  nothing  too  good  for  Major  Fen- 
ton  that  our  home  afforded  after  all  he  tried  to  do,  at 
least  for — him."  The  sigh  with  which  she  spoke 
seemed  to  well  up  from  the  depths  of  the  mother's 
heart.  Ellis,  with  light  footsteps,  had  left  the  room 
to  greet  her  father  on  the  piazza  without,  and  for 
the  first  time  since  his  coming,  three  days  previous, 
just  in  time  to  be  hemmed  in  and  held  at  Frayne  by 
the  great  snowfall,  Mrs.  Farrar  was  alone  with  her 
guest,  "There  is  something  I  have  longed  to  ask 
you  Mr.  Ormsby,"  she  went  on,  "  something  I  must 
ask  you,  for  a  mother's  intuition  is  keen,  and  I  feel 
sure  you  have  seen  or  known  my  poor  boy  in  the 
past.  Have  you  heard — do  you  know  anything  of 
him  now?  " 

"Mrs.  Farrar,  I  give  you  my  word  I  have  not 
the  faintest  idea  of  his  whereabouts. " 

"Forgive  me  if  I  am  intrusive — importunate," 
she  persisted.  But — Major  Fenton — he  was  MajdV 
Fenton  then,  you  know,  and  I  think  of  him  with  the 
title  he  bore  when  he  was  so  good — so  friendly — 
when  my  unhappy  boy  most  needed  friends.  You 
were  with  your  uncle  often  then.  Did  you  not  meet 
— did  you  not  know  my  Royle?  " 

Ormsby's  honest  eyes  betrayed  the  deep  em 
barrassment  under  which  he  labored,  and  she,  watch 
ing  every  sign  with  painful  intensity,  read  the  truth, 
despite  his  faltering  reply. 


18  FORT    FRAYNE. 

"Once  or  twice,  Mrs.  Farrar,  but  I  knew  him 
only  very  slightly." 

' '  Tell  me  still  more,  Mr.  Ormsby.  You  have 
been  most  considerate  to  me.  You  have  sought  to 
spare  me,  but  in  my  husband's  sad  face  and  ab 
stracted  manner  I  have  read  the  truth.  He  has 
heard  news — worse  news  of  Royle,  and  so  you  have 
been  the  bearer.  Is  it  not  so?" 

But  Orrnsby  pulled  himself  together  this  time,  at 
least,  like  a  man  and  braved  her. 

"  I  assure  you  it  is  not  so,  Mrs.  Farrar.  From 
me,  at  least,  the  colonel  has  heard  nothing  new,— 
nothing  worse.  I  beg  you  to  dismiss  the  thought." 

But  he  did  not  say  that  he  had  come  prepared  to 
tell,  aye,  instructed  to  tell,  of  crowning  disgrace — 
come  with  the  written  proposition  of  his  employers 
to  relinquish  pursuit  of  Royle  Farrar,  provided  the 
father  would  make  good  the  sum  they  had  lost 
through  the  son's  forgery. 

"  God  bless  you,  Mr.  Ormsby,  for  the  load  you 
have  lifted  from  my  heart,"  she  cried.  "  Ever  since 
you  came  I  have  dreaded  more  aud  more  each  day 
that  you  were  the  bearer  of  evil  tidings  of  him  who 
has  almost  broken  his  father's  heart,  and  yet  can 
not,  must  not,  shall  not  be  beyond  redemption,  if  a 
mother's  love  and  prayers  are  of  any  avail.  Even 
Ellis  has  seemed  to  share  my  dread.  I  have 
read  it  in  her  manner,  as,  perhaps,  you  have,  too. 
She  did  not  mean  to  be  unkind — inhospitable  to  our 
guest,  but  that  sorrow  has  overshadowed  us  all. 
Even  my  bright,  brave  Will,  who  is  doing  all  a  boy 


FORT    FRAYNE.  19 

can  do  to  redeem  the  name  at  the  Point — even  Will, 
I  say,  is  sometimes  confronted  by  the  record  that 
his  erring  brother  left." 

The  tears  were  starting  from  her  eyes  now,  and 
in  uncontrollable  emotion  she  turned  away.  Then 
came  a  loud  rap  at  the  front  door,  and  a  servant 
hastened  to  open  it.  A  loud,  cheery  Irish  voice  re 
sounded  through  the  hallway  an  instant  later. 
"Corporal  Rorke  to  report  to  the  colonel  for  dis 
patches,"  and  glancing  thither,  Ormsby  saw  a  stout 
trooper,  with  broad,  jovial,  ruddy  face,  his  burly 
form  clad  in  winter  service  dress.  Mrs.  Farrar, 
striving  to  hide  and  to  check  her  tears,  had  turned 
into  the  dining  room.  Ormsby  stepped  to  the  north 
window  and  glanced  out  upon  the  little  group  upon 
the  porch, — Ellis  half  shiveringly  clinging  to  her 
father's  arm,  he  intently  eying  Leale,  Leale,  with 
leveled  glasses,  steadily  at  gaze  at  some  dim,  black 
object  far,  far  across  the  turbid  Platte,  far  out  to 
the  eastward,  across  those  snow-clad  slopes. 

"  Can  you  make  out  what's  coming,  Leale?  " 

"I  think  so,  Colonel." 

"What  is  it?" 

Leale  slowly  lowered  the  glass,  and,  nere-  turn 
ing,  answered  in  low  but  positive  tone: 

' '  Our  inarching  orders — for  the  agency. "' 


CHAPTER  II. 

AT  noon  that  bright  December  day  the  barracks 
and  quai-ters  of  Fort  Frayne  were  resounding  with 
song  and  laughter,  and  all  "the  good-natured, 
soldierly  noise  "  with  which  the  garrison  was  busily 
preparing  for  the  blithe  festivities  of  Christmas. 
Two  hours  later,  though  the  scene  was  unchanged, 
the  preparations  were  for  war. 

"Leave  the  band  to  guard  the  post,  but  take  every 
available  trooper,"  were  the  injunctions  that  ac 
companied  the  General's  brief  orders  to  Colonel 
Farrar.  "Strike  when  you  find — and  wherever  you 
find— Kill  Eagle's  Band." 

Tearful  eyes  along  officers'  row,  watching  the 
silent  group  at  headquarters,  told  all  too  plainly 
with  what  dread  the  tidings  had  been  received. 
With  the  wires  down,  the  railway  blockaded,  the 
stage  road  deep  in  snow,  there  was  only  one  means 
of  communication  left,  and  two  Indian  scouts  on 
their  hardy  ponies,  leaving  the  field  column  at  dawn 
the  previous  day,  had  made  their  unerring  way 
through  the  trackless  maze  of  snow-clad  ridge,  ravine, 
divide  and  coulee,  through  a  labyrinth  of  Bad  Lands, 
bad  enough  in  midsummer,  and  across  many  a  fro/en 
creek,  until  at  last  they  struck  the  northern  shore  of 
the  swollen  Platte,  and  followed  on  up  stream  until 
opposite  old  Fort  Frayne. 

20 


PORT   FRAYNE.  21 

And  now,  indeed,  was  the  road  to  the  ferry  broken 
and  plowed  and  speedily  trodden  hard,  for  hosts  of 
stalwart  men  had  rushed  to  the  river  side,  and  out 
from  its  winter  hiding  place  they  dragged  one  of  the 
huge  pontoon  boats  a.'.d  launched  it  in  the  ice-whirl 
ing  flood,  and  the  sweeps  were  manned  by  brawny 
arms  in  blue,  and  with  boat  hooks  driving  at  the  ice 
cakes  and  the  foam  flying  from  the  oar  blades  and 
from  under  the  blunt  and  sloping  prow,  cheered 
from  the  southern  shore,  they  fought  their  way  to 
where,  like  black,  silent  statues,  the  riders  waited 
at  the  brink  and  then  Indians  and  ponies  both  were 
bundled  aboard  and  ferried  back  again,  landing  two 
hundred  yards  down  stream;  but  even  before  they 
could  breast  the  bluffs  and  carry  their  dispatches  to  the 
cavalry  chief,  the  news  they  bore  was  shouted  up  the 
heights:  "Red  Wolf  escaped— Kill  Eagle's  whole 
village  has  jumped  for  the  Bad  Lands." 

And  that  meant  that  the  Twelfth  must  drop  its 
Christmasiug  and  fetch  the  wanderers  home.  The 
old,  old  story  told  again,  and  just  as  it  had  been 
time  and  time  before.  Absurdity  in  the  Indian  pol 
icy;  mismanagement  in  the  Indian  bureau;  starva 
tion  in  the  Indian  villages;  murmurings  of  discontent 
among  the  old  warriors;  talk  of  summary  action 
among  the  young  braves;  emissaries  from  disaffected 
bands;  midnight  councils,  harangues,  dances, threats, 
an  arrest  or  two,  escape,  raid  then  a  general  rush  to 
join  the  hostiles  in  the  field. 

Prompt  to  act  on  this  occasion,  as  ever  before,  the 
moment  he  was  enabled  to  learn,  through  the  cha- 


22  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

grined  officials  of  the  Indian  bureau,  of  the  escape  of 
this  turbulent  leader,  and  the  flight  of  Kill  Eagle's 
people  from  the  agency,  the  general  commanding 
in  the  field  dispatched  a  small  force  of  cavalry  to 
interpose  between  the  latter  and  the  large  bands  of 
hostiles  already  lurking  in  the  Bad  Lands,  and,  giv- 
ino;  the  commander  of  this  force  instructions  to  turn 

O 

Kill  Eagle  westward,  and  by  steady  pursuit  keep 
him  "OR  the  jump"  toward  his  old  hunting  grounds 
behind  the  Black  Hills,  he  sent  couriers  across  coun 
try  post  haste  to  Frayne,  with  orders  for  Colonel  Far- 
rar  to  start  at  once  with  his  entire  force — four  fine 
troops  of  the  Twelfth  Cavalry — to  cross  the  Platte  at 
the  first  possible  point,  and  by  forced  marches  throw 
himself  across  the  Indians'  front  and  strive  to  hem 
them  in.  With  the  Platte  sweeping  along  as  it 
was,  bank  full,  a  crossing  might  be  impossible 
nearer  than  the  rocky  shallows  at  the  Fetterman 
Bend,  but  that  made  no  difference;  prompt  action 
was  the  thing. 

More  than  half  expecting  just  such  a  contingency, 
Farrar  had  long  since  completed  his  preparations. 
His  packers  and  their  lively  mules  had  been  kept  in 
trim.  Ten  days'  rations  were  always  set  aside  in 
readiness  to  be  packed  on  the  apparejos  the  moment 
word  should  come.  Boxes  of  extra  ammunition  for 
carbine  and  revolver  were  stacked  up  in  the  ord 
nance  storeroom,  ready  to  be  lashed,  two  to  each, 
on  the  sturdy  little  burden-bearers'  backs.  Double 
sacks  of  grain,  precious  as  powder  on  a  winter  cam 
paign,  were  banked  at  the  quartermaster's  corral. 


FORT    FKAYXE.  23 

Every  trooper's  winter  kit  of  fur  cap,  gloves,  fur- 
lined  canvas  coat,  boots,  blankets  and  reinforced 
breeches  had  been  carefully  inspected  only  a  day  or 
two  before.  Every  horse  had  been  as  carefully  shod. 
Extra  shoes  and  shoe  nails  had  been  stored  in  each 
pair  of  saddle  bags.  The  horses  themselves  in  their 
warm,  thick  winter  coats  and  uncropped  manes  and 
tails,  looked  shaggy  and  far  from  "swell"  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  eastern  avenues,  but  were  emi 
nently  fit  for  campaigning  among  the  blizzards  of  the 
plains;  and  as  for  the  men,  they  were  serving  under 
a  soldier  who  didn't  believe  in  letting  troopers  grow 
"soft"  and  out  of  condition  even  in  midwinter,  and 
so,  no  matter  what  the  weather,  Farrar  had  had  his 
people  out  for  exercise  every  weekday  of  the  year, 
and  the  exercise  during  the  snowstorm  had  consisted 
in  breaking  roads  in  long  compact  column  of  fours 
all  around  the  plateau  on  which  stood  the  great 
spreading  garrison,  and  the  men  liked  it,  and  throve 
under  it,  and  came  in  each  day  glowing  with  health, 
to  the  enjoyment  of  their  substantial  dinner,  vowing 
the  colonel  knew  no  end  of  tricks  worth  their  study 
ing,  even  if  he  wasn't  a  West  Pointer,  even  if  he  had 
gone  into  the  army  "from  the  militia"  in  the  old 
days  of  the  war. 

And  now  that  all  their  Christmas  fun  seemed  sum 
marily  ended  and  they  themselves  were  to  be  hurried 
forth  upon  a  sharp  and  sudden  campaign,  they 
sprang  to  their  preparations  with  cheery  vim,  almost 
with  eager  rejoicing.  For  three  weeks  they  had 
been  excitedly  reading  and  discussing  the  reports  of 


24  FORT    FRAYNE. 

the  doings  of  their  comrade  regiment,  the  Eleventh, 
around  the  agency  far  to  the  east,  and  coveting  their 
prominence  and  distinction.  Already  they  had  en 
viously  heard  of  one  or  two  sharp  affairs  in  which 
the  Eleventh  had  rounded  up  a  party  of  young  war 
riors  breaking  for  the  Cheyenne  country,  or  had  sur 
rounded  and  disarmed  Tall  Bull's  little  band  of  ugly 
"bluffers."  Even  at  the  expense  of  Christmas  trees, 
Christmas  dance,  Christmas  dinner,  they  didn't  want 
to  loaf  in  garrison  when  other  regiments  were  hav 
ing  stirring  service  in  the  field.  And  so,  while 
women  wept,  the  barracks  rang  with  shout  and  song 
and  cheery  whistle,  and  the  laugh  and  joke  went 
around  as  the  troopers  stowed  their  treasures  in  the 
home  chest  and  packed  their  bulging  saddlebags. 
Few  of  their  number  had  wives  or  children  to  leave 
behind.  It  was  over  among  the  officers'  quarters 
that  no  laughter  rang,  and  the  only  smiles  were  pit 
eous  through  their  mist  of  tears. 

"I  could  bear  it  better  at  any  other  season,  Koyle," 
said  the  colonel's  wife,  as  she  clung,  sobbing,  to  his 
neck  after  he  had  donned  his  rough  field  dress.  "  It 
seems  as  though  the  worst  blow  of  my  life  had  come 
to  me  at  Christmas  just  this  time."  He  bowed  in 
silence,  tenderly  kissing  her,  yet  even  then  checking 
further  reference  to  that  crowning  sorrow.  He 
could  not  shut  out  the  recollection  of  how  the  news 
of  their  boy's  disgrace  had  been  received  on  Christ 
mas  morning,  and  now  with  another  Christmas  BO 
close  at  hand,  he  was  keeping  from  her  tidings  that 
still  more  had  bowed  his  head  in  sorrow  uncontrollable 


FORT    FRAYNE.  25 

— that  his  wretched  son  had  robbed,  deceived  and  de 
serted  the  sweet  woman  who  had  trusted  him,  leav- 
her  penniless  to  struggle  unaided  and  unknown.  Who 
can  say  what  would  have  been  his  shame  had  he 
dreamed  that  this  genial,  kindly  young  New  Yorker; 
this  stranger  within  his  gates,  was  the  bearer  of  evi 
dence  that  still  further  was  the  sou  a  felon  in  the 
eyes  of  the  law,  and  that  to  all  his  other  crimes 
Royle  Farrar  had  added  that  of  forgery?  At  noon  this 
very  day  Jack  Ormsby  was  striving  to  nerve  him 
self  to  carry  out  his  employer's  orders  and  break  the 
tidings,  but  those  few  words  of  the  gentle  mother, 
and  the  sight  of  her  pathetic  face  again  unmanned 
him,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  irresolution  came  these 
sudden  orders  to  the  field, and  that  put  an  end  to  all 
thought  of  anything  else. 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  he  was  saying  to  Ellis,  as  the 
girl,  pale  and  sad,  but  uncomplaining,  was  busily 
packing  her  father's  mess  chest.  ' '  It  would  be  ridicu 
lous  to  say  I  could  be  of  any  use,  but  all  the 
same  I  want  to  go.  It's  the  chance  of  a  lifetime.  I 
have  never  seen  an  Indian  campaign.  I  haven't  an 
idea  what  an  Indian  fight  is  like;  but,  do  you  kuow, 
I  could'nt  go  back  and  face  our  fellows  of  the  Sev 
enth  and  tell  them  I  saw  the  Twelfth  Cavalry  start 
on  its  rush  to  head  off  Kill  Eagle's  band,  and  that  I 
didn't  go,  too." 

"I  should  want  to  go  if  I  were  in  your  place," 
said  she.  "I  understand  it  fully.  No  doubt  Cap 
tain  Leale  can  fit  you  out  with  campaign  clothing,— 
everything  you  need — . " 


26  FORT   FRAYNE. 

"Then  I  certainly  shall  go,"  said  Ormsby.  "  It'll 
be  something  to  tell  about  in  '  I '  company  for  the 
next  ten  years." 

And  that  was  how  it  happened  that  five  days 
later,  in  a  blinding  snowstorm,  there  rode  with  the 
advance  of  the  Twelfth  Cavalry  a  sergeant  of  the 
famous  New  York  Seventh  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  word  came  from  the  scouts  that  Kill  Eagle's 
village  was  not  two  miles  ahead. 

Left  to  his  own  devices  in  the  matter  of  carrying 
out  his  orders,  Farrar  had  made  a  close  and  careful 
calculation.  With  the  La-ramie  road  out  of  sight  in 
snow  it  might  take  three  days  of  hard  marching  to 
reach  the  ford,  with  the  prospect  then  of  finding 
themselves  almost  as  far  from  the  Indians  as  before, 
for  the  fords  lay  some  ninety  miles  off  to  the  south 
east,  while,  when  last  heard  from,  Kill  Eagle  was 
striking  across  the  country  south  of  the  Cheyenne 
between  the  Upper  Niobrara  and  the  Mini  Pusa.  In 
the  deep  valleys  were  scattered  ranches  and  countless 
herds  of  horned  cattle,  so  he  was  living  high  on  the 
country  as  he  fled,  his  rear  well  guarded  by  three 
score  young  braves,  who  hovered  just  ahead  of  the 
pursuing  column,  peppering  its  advance  guard  with 
long-range  shots  from  every  ridge,  and  so  retaixling 
its  movement  as  to  enable  their  old  war  chief  to 
move  his  whole  village,  tepees,  lodge  poles,  women 
and  children,  pony  herd,  dog  herd,  and  all,  with 
calm  deliberation.  By  going  southeast  Farrar 
would  have  taken  the  flooded  Platte  alongside  on 
his  left  hand,  only  to  have  to  turn  an  acute  angle  to 


FORT    FRAYXE.  27 

the  north  again,  march  them  over  rough  and  broken 
country,  with  old  Rawhide  Butte,  perhaps,  as  his 
guide,  with  every  probability  of  finding  himself  far 
behind  the  chase  after  reaching  the  broad,  deep-lying 
valley  of  the  Niobrara.  Wiser  by  far,  he  sent  back 
brief  word  by  courier  to  Laramie,  ordering  it  for 
warded  by  wire  from  that  point. 

"We  go  westward  up  the  Platte,  confident  of 
lower  water  and  a  crossing  this  side  of  the  big  bend. 
Thence  we  will  swing  around  northeastward,  and, 
covering  a  broad  stretch  of  country,  keep  sharp 
lookout  for  Kill  Eagle's  band.  We  should  meet  him 
somewhere  among  the  breaks  of  the  Mini  Pusa, 
southeast  of  old  Cantonment  Reno,  and,  unless  they 
will  surrender,  I  shall  strike  at  once  and  strike 
hard." 

And  here  among  the  breaks  of  the  Mini  Pusa, 
after  four  days  of  severe  winter  marching,  Farrar 
had  thrown  his  little  command  just  as  he  had 
planned,  square  across  the  path  of  the  foe.  Direful 
were  the  tales  that  had  reached  him  from  ranchmen 
and  settlers,  who,  having  abandoned  their  homes, 
were  fleeing  for  the  protection  of  the  frontier  forts, 
far  back  at  the  base  of  the  Big  Horn.  Day  after 
day  had  the  young  warriors  swooped  from  the 
traveling  village  down  upon  the  valleys  on  either 
side,  murdering  men,  women  and  little  children, 
burning  the  ranches,  driving  off  such  cattle  as  they 
fancied,  and  ruthlessly  butchering  all  the  rest.  And 
still,  one  or  two  days'  march  behind,  the  pursu 
ing  column  plunged  heavily  through  the  snow. 


28  FORT    FRAYNE. 

Farrar  was  an  expert,  however,  and  had  shrewdly 
judged  their  route.  Farrar  was  merciful,  and  even 
in  the  face  of  the  atrocities  that  had  been  committed 
and  undei  the  warrant  of  his  orders  and  in  the 
belief  that  the  band  was  few  in  numbers,  he  would 
not  strike  when  the  blow  might  fall  on  women  and 
children,  too,  until  he  had  given  the  red  chief  a 
chance  of  surrender. 

He  had  been  marching  since  dawn  and  it  was  now 
11  o'clock.  An  hour  earlier,  far  out  at  the  front 
along  a  low,  snow-covered  ridge  that  stood  out 
sharply  against  the  black  bank  of  cloud  that  spread 
from  horizon  almost  to  zenith,  the  scouts  began  that 
fierce  sudden  circling  of  their  ponies  that  denoted 
"enemy  in  sight."  With  their  field  glasses  the 
officers  at  the  head  of  the  column  could  see  that  one 
of  the  number,  dismounted,  was  lying  close  to  the 
crest,  peering  cautiously  over  and  signaling  excitedly 
to  his  fellows  who  kept  well  behind  him  down  the 
slope.  They,  in  turn,  were  signaling  to  the  column, 
and,  leaving  Leale  in  command  with  orders  to  move 
steadily  on,  the  colonel  put  spurs  to  his  horse  — old 
Roderick — and  followed  by  his  adjutant  and  an 
orderly  or  two,  cantered  on  out  to  the  front.  Ormsby, 
riding  at  the  moment  with  Leale  at  the  head  of  the 
first  troop,  felt  a  thrill  of  excitement  as  the  captain 
coolly  interpreted  the  meaning  of  the  rapid  move 
ments  of  the  scouts.  Eagerly,  too,  the  men  seemed 
to  rouse  from  the  almost  slumberous  condition  of  the 
command  after  its  hours  of  plodding,  and  a  murmur 
ran  back  from  troop  to  troop:  "Indians  ahead! 


FORT    FKAYNE.  29 

Now  for  it,  fellows!"  And  then  all  eyes  were 
strained  on  that  low  ridge  against  the  sky  line,  and 
unconsciously  the  horses  seemed  to  close  up  toward 
the  head  of  the  column,  answering,  perhaps,  some 
involuntary  pressure  of  the  knees,  for  suddenly, 
while  the  leading  troop  continued  its  placid  gait — the 
swift,  steady,  four-mile  walk — those  in  the  rear  of 
the  column  broke  into  a  jog  trot  and  never  resumed 
the  walk  ao'ain  until  the  cautioning  voice  and 

O  O 

hand  of  the  captain  seemed  to  restrain  them.  And 
then  they  could  see  that  Colonel  Farrar,  reaching  the 
ridge,  had  himself  dismounted,  and  was  lying  on  the 
snow  arid  peering  over  as  Little  Bat  had  done  before 
him.  Still  no  word  came  to  accelerate  the  march, 
and,  at  the  same  steady  walk  the  long  column,  mov 
ing  by  fours  here,  for  the  prairie  was  wide  and  open 
and  comparatively  level,  pushed  on  for  the  distant 
ridge,  and  when  at  last  they  came  within  hailing 
distance  of  the  group  at  the  front  the  adjutant 
slowly  raised  his  hand  and  gave  the  signal,  "Halt !" 
and  in  an  instant  the  snake-like  column  stood  in  its 
tracks  and  the  men  swung  out  of  saddle  and  began 
dancing  and  thrashing  their  arms  in  the  effort  to 
start  the  sluggish  blood. 

All  the  morning  it  had  been  threatening  snow, 
and  now  it  was  sifting  slowly  down,  but  presently 
the  flakes  fell  thicker  and  thicker,  and  then  in  a 
dense  cloud  that  soon  shut  out  even  the  crest  ahead  of 
them.  Captain  Leale,  a  calm,  thoughtful  battalion 
commander,  picked  out  certain  level-headed  ser 
geants,  and  sent  them,  with  a  few  men  each,  out  to 


30  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

the  right  and  left  front  and  flank,  so  as  to  guard 
against  surprise,  and  then  as  the  men  danced  about 
in  the  snow  and  sparred  or  wrestled  laughingly, 
many  and  many  were  the  conjectures  as  to  the  cause 
of  the  halt  and  delay.  "  What  are  we  waiting  for? 
Why  don't  we  pitch  in?"  were  the  queries  that 
passed  from  lip  to  lip,  and  many  were  the  inquiring 
glances  toward  the  little  group  of  officers  smoking 
and  talking,  and  chaffing  Ormsby  at  the  head  of  the 
column.  With  an  Indian  village  barely  a  mile 
away,  an  Indian  fight  probably  not  an  hour  ahead, 
the  Twelfth  was  taking  things  as  coolly  as  befitted 
the  season,  and  Ormsby,  after  looking  once  more  to 
the  chamber  of  his  revolver  and  trying  the  breech 
block  of  his  Springfield  carbine,  joined  in  the  chat 
with  all  the  coolness  he  could  command,  and  strove 
to  appear  more  interested  in  what  was  being  said 
than  in  the  immediate  business  at  hand. 

And  yet  when  the  adjutant  came  riding  rapidly 
back  from  the  ridge,  there  was  instant  movement  to 
meet  him. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Jimmy?"  was  the  query  on 
many  a  tongue.  "What  are  we  waiting  for?" 

"They're  going  regularly  into  camp — putting  up 
their  tepees,"  was  the  answer.  "  It  looks  as  though 
they  were  waiting  to  palaver  with  the  pursuit.  The 
colonel  thinks  they're  willing  to  come  to  terms 
rather  than  march  further  in  such  weather.  I  sup 
pose  the  Eleventh  can't  be  very  far  behind  them, 
and  as  yet  they  don't  suspect  we're  over  here  at  all. 


FOKT   FKAYNE.  31 

Luckily  for  us,  too,"  said  he,  gravely,  "for  it's  two 
to  one  in  their  favor,  if  I'm  any  judge  at  all." 

"The  devil  you  say!  How  many  lodges  are 
there?  " 

"Bat  says  nigh  onto  seventy,  though  they're  not 
all  up  yet,  and  you  can't  see  a  thing  now  for  the 
snow.  The  old  rip  must  have  been  reinforced 
heavily.  There  seem  to  be  two  or  three  bands 
rolled  into  one.  What  I  can't  understand  is  how 
the  Eleventh  happens  to  be  so  far  behind.  We 
thought  they  were  right  at  their  heels.  I  hate  to 
think  how  the  settlers  down  the  Dry  Fork  must 
have  suffered." 

' '  Seen  or  heard  anything  of  them — or  of  any 
refugees?" 

"  Yes;  two  outfits  passed  up  the  valley  going  for 
all  they  were  worth  this  morning.  Bat  and  Chaska 
saw  them  from  the  ridge  yonder  to  the  south.  The 
scouts  say  they  abandoned  their  wagons  and  took  to 
their  horses." 

Even  as  they  were  speaking  there  came  indi 
cations  of  some  unusual  object  off  to  the  right  rear 
of  the  column.  One  or  two  officers  and  men  were 
seen  to  ride  out  in  that  direction,  and  were  quickly 
swallowed  up  in  the  snow -cloud.  A  sergeant  com 
ing  up  from  the  rear  saluted  Captain  Leale,  and  said: 
"Captain  Amory's  compliments,  sir,  and  there  are 
borne  mounted  men  coming  in  who  seem  about 
played  out.  He  thinks  they're  settlers  seeking  pro 
tection." 


32  FORT    FRAYSTE. 

And  presently  this  proved  to  be  the  case.  Out 
from  the  fleecy  clouds  there  soon  came  in  sight  four 
or  five  horseman  slowly  escorting  one  or  two  riders 
on  broken  down  and  exhausted  quadrupeds,  and 
there  was  a  general  movement  on  the  part  of  half 
the  men  of  the  Twelfth  to  leave  their  linked  horses 
and  gather  about  these  new  arrivals.  There  were 
two  men,  rough  bearded,  typical  frontiersmen, 
garbed  in  the  roughest  of  plain's  wear — men  with 
faces  so  drawn  and  haggard  with  terror  and  suffer 
ing  that  they  did  not  brighten  even  with  the  joy  of 
reaching  the  protection  of  a  strong  force  of  cavalry. 
There  was  a  third,  a  man  heavily  bearded  like  his 
associates,  but  with  dress  of  costlier  make,  with 
features  that  told  of  gentler  birth  than  theirs,  but 
whose  eyes,  shifting,  restless,  filled  with  a  dread  as 
great  as  theirs,  gave  no  symptom  of  reassurance. 
Like  shipwrecked  mariners  on  the  broad  ocean,  they 
had  sought  the  succor  of  the  first  craft  that  came  in 
sight,  but  even  now  seemed  to  dread  the  storm  and  to 
doubt  the  stability,  the  safety  of  the  rescuing  ship. 
"  How  many  men  have  you?  "  they  had  eagerly  asked, 
and  when  told  two  hundred  and  twenty  had  wrung  their 
hands  and  implored  their  first  rescuers  not  to  dare 
confront  the  Indians,  who  were  at  least  a  thousand 
strong.  "  They  have  wiped  out  everything  in  the 
valleys  below,  tired  every  ranch,  murdered  every 
man.  They've  got  a  dozen  of  our  women  prisoners 
now  in  that  very  camp,  and  the  first  thing  they'll 
do  will  be  to  butcher  them  if  you  attack.  For  the 
love  of  God  come  away,"  they  implored,  "  and  let 


FORT    FRAYNE.  33 

them  by.  The  troops  in  pursuit  must  be  fifty  miles 
behind." 

Thus  eagerly,  incoherently,  the  two  ranchmen 
said  their  say.  The  third  was  strangely  silent,  yet 
seemed  to  be  full  as  eager  to  get  away. 

"What  say  you  to  this  story?"  asked  the  young 
lieutenant,  who  had  ridden  out  to  bring  them  in. 

"It's  all  God's  truth!  "  was  the  answer.  "  You'll 
je  wiped  off  the  face  of  the  earth  if  you  attack. 
Give  us  some  provisions — hardtack,  bacon — any 
thing,  and  some  grain  for  our  horses,  and  let  us 
go." 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  come  in  and  see  the  com 
manding  officer  first,"  was  the  short  reply.  "  He'll 
decide  after  hearing  your  story." 

"  What's  his  name?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"  Colonel  Farrar." 

"  Farrar!  Is  this  the  Twelfth  Cavalry?  I  thought 
they  were  ordered  to  Arizona." 

"We  were,  but  the  devil's  work  of  the  ghost 
dance  keeps  us  here.  Now  follow,  and  we'll  get 
you  something  to  eat." 

But  the  stranger  said  that  he  would  go  no  further 
to  the  front.  "I'm  too  near  that  cursed  band  now," 
he  protested,  shaking  his  fist  through  the  wintry 
air.  "Go,  you,  Mullen,  and  see  the  colonel.  Get 
what  help  you  can.  I'm  too  weak  to  ride  until  I 
can  have  something  to  eat." 

Even  then  it  was  noticed  that  Mullen  and  his 
friend  seemed  anything  but  cordial  to  their  compan 
ion.  "Damn  him!"  they  growled,  as,  sullenly, 


34  FORT    FRAYNE. 

they  left  him  dismounting  at  the  pack  train.  "  His 
saddlebags  are  crammed  with  meat.  He  hasn't  suf 
fered.  Other  men  stayed  and  fought  and  tried  to  de 
fend  Crawford's  ranch  and  Morgan's.  They  are  dead, 
poor  devils,  but  that  sneak  who  calls  himself  Graice, 
he  only  came  among  us  six  weeks  ago,  and  if  he  ain't 
a  jailbird  I'm  no  judge.  He's  afraid  to  see  your 
colonel,  lieutenant.  That's  what  I  believe."  And 
when  Captain  Leale  heard  their  story  at  the  head  of 
the  column  he  called  to  his  orderly,  mounted  and 
rode  back  through  the  falling  snow. 

"  Where  is  that  third  refugee?"  he  asked  of  the 
pack  master,  "that  man  they  call  Graice." 

"He  was  here  just  this  minute,  sir.  He's  worse 
scared  than  the  othei-s.  He  wants  to  go  on.  There 
he  goes  now,  by  God!  He's  lighting  out  by  himself." 

Just  then  there  came  a  movement  along  the  col 
umn.  Every  trooper  was  springing  to  his  horse. 
"They're  mounting,  sir,"  said  the  orderly.  But  the 
captain  was  staring  fixedly  after  the  disappearing 
rider,  who  clapping  spurs  to  his  jaded  bronco  was 
hurrying  away.  "Where  on  earth  have  I  seen  that 
form  before?"  said  Leale  to  himself.  "Orderly, 
ride  after  that  lunatic  and  bring  him  in  here.  What?  " 
he  asked,  turning  quickly  about  in  his  saddle  as  a 
trumpeter  came  trotting  to  his  side.  "Move  where?  " 

"Off  to  the  right,  sir.  The  adjutant  is  leading  the 
way,"  and  peering  through  the  fast  falling  flakes, 
the  battalion  commander  saw  the  dim  figures  of  the 
horsemen  already  in  motion. 


FOKT    FRAYNE.  35 

"Come  on  with  your  packs,  Harry,"  he  called  to 
the  chief  packer,  "and  when  that  fellow  returns, 
send  him  to  the  front." 

Five  minutes  more  and  they  were  stumbling  down 
into  the  depths  of  one  of  the  deep  ravines  which 
opened  out  from  the  valley  of  the  frozen  stream  to 
the  eastward.  Then,  and  without  a  word  of  com 
mand  or  trumpet  call — only  the  uplifted  hand  of  the 
troop  leaders  and  observant  sergeants, — the  column 
halted.  "Dismount!"  was  passed  in  low  tone  from 
front  to  rear.  "Silence  now!  No  noise,  men.  Stand 
to  horse!  "  were  the  muttered  cautious,  and  then  once 
again  the  foremost  officers  gathered  in  a  little  group 
about  the  two  refugees. 

"  We'll  fight  with  you  gladly.  Count  us  in,"  said 
one  of  them,  refreshed  by  a  long  pull  at  Ormsby's 
flask.  "  But  that  sneak  that  slipped  away  would  see 
you  all  in  hell  first.  He's  a  fugitive  iu  more  senses 
than  one.  That  man's  fleeing  from  the  law." 

"  How  do  you  know?  Have  you  any  idea  who  he 
is  and  where  he  came  from?  "  asked  Captain  Leale. 
"I  didn't  see  his  face,  but  somewhere  before  this 
day  I've  seen  his  back." 

"I  don't  know  him  from  Adam.  He  was  on  his 
way  to  the  Black  Hills  when  the  Indians  jumped  the 
reservation  and  cut  us  off.  He's  been  afraid  to  go 
ahead  and  afraid  to  go  back,  and  he's  just  been  stay 
ing  there  with  us — seemed  to  have  plenty  of  money, 
but  there  ain't  a  white  man  left  alive  from  here  to 
the  South  Cheyenne  now." 


36  FORT    FRAYNE. 

And  then  in  silent  respect  the  group  opened  and 
made  way  for  the  gray-mustached  soldier  who  rode 
slowly  into  their  midst  and  addressed  them  in  low, 
quiet  tones: 

"Look  to  your  men  and  horses,  gentlemen.  Big 
as  that  village  is,  I  think  that  all  the  warriors  are 
not  there,  and  our  best  plan  will  be  to  attack  before 
they  can  send  and  call  in  those  who  are  watching  the 
pursuing  column.  We  will  attack  at  once. " 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  enow  was  falling  now  in  a  dense  white  mist, 
powdering  beards  and  broad-brimmed  campaign  hats 
and  silvering  the  dusty  black  of  the  fur  caps  of  the 
men.  Objects  fifty  feet  away  were  invisible,  and 
all  sounds  muffled  by  the  soft,  fleecy  blanket  that 
everywhere  covered  the  earth.  Silently,  yet  with 
soldierly  alertness,  the  officers  hastened  to  look 
quickly  over  their  troops.  Silently  the  veteran  col 
onel  turned  once  more  to  the  front  and  rode  a  few 
yards  out  beyond  the  head  of  the  column  and  sat 
there  on  his  horse,  a  white  mantled  statue,  peering 
intently  through  the  slowly  falling  flakes. 

"We  move  the  moment  Bat  gets  back,"  mur 
mured  the  adjutant  to  Captain  Leale.  ' '  He  crawled  out 
to  locate  the  herds  and  pick  our  way.  There  are 
some  cross  gullies  beyond  that  ridge  and  down  near 
the  village.  Bat  says  he  feels  sure  most  of  the  war 
riors  are  miles  away  to  the  east,  but — there  are 
enough  and  to  spare  right  here." 

"Is  Kill  Eagle  still  to  be  given  a  chance  to  sur 
render?"  asked  Leale.  "That  was  the  understand 
ing  at  one  time,  Avasn't  it?  " 

"That  was  it — yes,  and  Bat  was  to  hail  as  soon  as 
we  deployed  within  striking  distance.  Unless  some 
scouts  or  the  ponies  find  us  out,  we  can  creep  up 
under  this  snow  cloud  to  within  a  few  yards,  and 
they'll  be  none  the  wiser.  The  colonel  hoped  that 

37 


38  FORT    FRAYNE. 

the  show  of  force  would  be  ample  and  that  the  old 
scoundrel  would  throw  up  the  sponge  right  here,  but 
—I  don't  know,"  he  added,  doubtfully.  "If  only 
the  women  and  children  weren't  in  that  village,  it 
would  be  simple  enough.  We  could  pitch  in  and 
double  them  up  before  they  knew  what  struck  them. 
As  it  is — "  and  here  the  young  officer  broke  off  with  a 
wave  of  the  hand  that  meant  volumes  of  doubt. 
Then  he  turned  and  looked  eastward  again  to  where, 
silent  and  stauesque  still,  Colonel  Farrar  was  seated 
on  old  Roderick. 

The  same  thought  seemed  to  occur  to  both  officers 
at  the  same  instant.  Ormsby,  once  more  testing  the 
lock  of  his  revolver  and  narrowly  observing  his  new 
comrades,  remarked  it  at  the  time  and  spoke  of  it 
often  thereafter. 

"Can't  you  make  him  keep  well  back?"  asked 
Leale. 

"Won't  you  remind  the  chief  he  oughtn't  to  be  in 
the  front?"  asked  the  adjutant. 

And  then  each  shook  his  head,  as  though  realizing 
the  impossibility  of  getting  their  old  war  horse  of  a 
colonel  to  take  a  position  where  he  would  be  less  ex 
posed  to  the  fire  of  the  Indian  marksmen. 

"  You  might  give  him  a  tip,  Ormsby,"  said  the 
adjutant,  in  the  cheery  confidence  the  comradeship  a 
few  days'  campaigning  engenders.  "You  are  his 
guest,  not  his  subordinate.  Tell  him  what  the  Sev 
enth  thinks  the  colonel  should  do,"  he  added,  with 
an  attempt  at  jocularity  that  somehow  failed  to  pro 
voke  a  smile. 


FOKT    FRAYXE.  39 

But  Ormsby  in  turn  shook  his  head.  "I  haven't 
known  your  colonel  a  week,"  said  he,  "but  I've 
learned  to  know  him  well,  and  when  he  means  to  go 
in,  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  go,  too.  That's  what 
I've  mapped  out  for  myself,  and  doubtless  so,  too, 
have  these  gentlemen,"  he  continued,  indicating  the 
two  ranchmen,  now  eagerly  fingering  their  Win 
chesters  and  getting  ready  for  business.  The  elder 
of  the  two  it  was  who  answered: 

"No  man  who  has  been  through  what  we  have, 
and  seen  the  sights  and  heard  the  sounds  of  their 
raids  on  the  ranches  down  the  Fork,  would  do  less 
than  thank  God  for  a  chance  of  meeting  those  brutes 
on  anything  like  equal  terms.  My  poor  brother 
lies  there,  hacked  and  scalped  and  mutilated;  his 
wife  and  daughter,  I  believe,  are  somewhere  among 
those  foul  tepees  now,  unless  God  has  been  merciful 
and  let  them  die  day  before  yesterday.  We  fought 
as  long  as  there  was  a  show,  and  we  got  away  in 
the  dark.  These  poor  women  wouldn't  leave  their 
dead." 

A  tear  was  tickling  down  his  cheek  as  he  finished 
speaking,  but  his  lips  and  jaws  were  firm  set. 
"  You  gentlemen,"  he  continued,  "are  going  into 
this  thing  just  from  sense  of  duty,  but  think  what  it 
is  to  me  and  to  young  Crawford  here.  His  old  father 
and  mother  were  just  butchered, by  God! — butchered 
—and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  if  that  damned  hound 
Graice  had  stood  by  him  ten  minutes  he  might 
have  got  them  safely  away.  They  were  too  old  to 
make  any  time,  and  it  was  no  use.  That  fellow's  a 


40  FORT   FRAYNE. 

white-livered   pup,    and   if  I  ever   come   upon    him 
again  I'll  tell  him  what  I  think  of  him." 

"I  wish  you  had  seen  that  fellow,  Ormsby,"  said 
Loale,  in  a  low  tone  "  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the 
more  I  feel  sure  he  had  some  reason  for  fearing  to 
meet  our  party  here.  They  tell  me  he  seemed  ex 
cited  and  worried  the  moment  he  heard  we  were 
the  Twelfth  Cavalry.  I  only  saw  his  back  as  he 
rode  away,  but  I've  seen  that  man  before  some- 
\vhere.  lie  rode  like  a  trooper,  and  it's  ten  to  one 
he's  a  deserter." 

"  He's  a  deserter  this  day  if  he  never  was  before," 
said  Ormsby  in  reply.  "I  judge  we  need  every 
man,  do  we  not?  " 

' '  Looks  like  it, ' '  was  the  brief  reply.  < '  All  right, 
gentlemen?  "  he  continued,  turning  with  courteous 
manner  to  the  two  younger  officers,  his  first  and 
second  lieutenants,  who  came  striding  up  through 
the  snow.  Leale  was  famous  in  the  cavalry  for  his 
subalterns.  lie  had  the  reputation  of  never  speak 
ing  hastily  or  harshly,  and  of  getting  more  out  ol 
his  men  than  any  other  captain  in  the  regiment. 

"  All  right,  sir!"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "Every 
man  in  my  platoon  boiling  over  with  ginger,"  added 
the  younger,  his  blue  eyes  flashing,  though  his 
cheeks  were  pale  and  his  lips  twitching  with  pent-up 
excitement. 

"I  see  the  guidon  is  being  unfurled,  Cramer," 
said  the  captain,  quietly.  "  Perhaps  Sergeant  West 
wants  to  land  it  lirst  in  the  village,  but  tell  him  to 
handle  his  revolver  instead,  if  we  charge,"  and 


FORT    FRA.YNE.  41 

toucliing  his  fur  cap,  the  officer  turned  hack.  ''The 
colonel  has  said  nothing  ahout  the  plan  of  attack. 
We  may  be  going  to  charge  right  in,  for  all  I  know. 
I  la!  Orrusby,  there  conies  the  word!" 

Looming  up  through  the  snow  a  young  German 
trooper  rode  rapidly  back  toward  the  little  group, 
and,  reining  in  his  horse  a  few  yards  away,  true  to 
the  etiquette  of  the  craft,  threw  his  carbine  over  his 
shoulder  and  started  to  dismount  before  addressing 
officers  afoot,  but  Leale  checked  him.  "  Never  mind 
dismounting,  orderly.  What's  the  message?" 

"The  colonel's  compliments,  sir,  and  he  would 
wish  to  see  Captain  Leale  a  minute,  and  the  command 
Avill  mount  and  move  slowly  forward." 

Instantly  the  group  dissolved,  each  officer  turning 
quickly  to  his  horse  and  swinging  into  saddle.  No 
trumpet  signal  was  given.  "Mount,"  said  Leale, 
in  the  same  quiet,  conversational  tone.  "Mount," 
repeated  the  first  sergeant,  halted  alongside  the  lead 
ing  set  of  fours,  and,  all  in  a  few  seconds,  the  burly 
forms  of  the  riders  shot  up  in  the  eddying  fleece,  and 
every  horse,  far  back  as  eye  could  penetrate  the  mist, 
was  suddenly  topped  by  an  armed  rider.  Then, 
first  thing,  the  fur-gloved  right  hands  went  up  to  the 
shoulder  and  drew  over  the  little  brown  carbines 
and  drove  the  muzzle  through  its  socket.  Then, 
in  the  same  soldierly  silence  the  horsemen  edged  in 
toward  the  center  of  each  set,  and  there  sat,  boot  to 
to  boot,  erect  and  ready.  One  or  two  spirited  young 
horses  began  to  paw  the  snow  in  their  impatience, 
and  to  snort  excitedly.  The  adjutant  trotted  briskly 


42  FOUT    FBAYNE. 

back  along  the  column  in  order  to  see  that  all  four 
troops  were  similarly  ready,  cautioned  the  rearward 
troop  leaders  to  keep  well  closed  on  the  head  of  the 
column  and  signaled  "  Forward,"  while  Leale  dis 
appeared  in  the  snow  clouds  ahead. 

Not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  Ormsby  ranged 
alongside  the  senior  lieutenant  of  Leale's  troop,  as  in 
perfect  silence  the  column  bore  steadily  on.  A  few 
seconds  brought  them  in  sight  of  the  colonel's  form 
again,  and  he  waved  his  hand  cheerily,  as  though  to 
say,  "All  right,  lads,  come  on."  Then,  sitting 
Roderick  as  squarely  as  ever,  the  gray-mustached 
commander  took  the  lead,  a  swarthy  half-breed  Sioux 
scout  riding  on  one  side,  the  grave,  soldierly  Leale 
on  the  other.  The  adjutant,  the  chief  trumpeter, 
sergeant  major,  and  orderlies  fell  in  behind,  and  the 
crack  battalion  of  the  old  Twelfth  rode  noiselessly  in 
to  take  position  for  the  attack. 

For  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  they  followed  the 
windings  of  the  ravine  in  which  they  had  been  con 
cealed,  had  concealment  been  necessary.  Then, 
turning  abruptly  to  his  left  as  he  passed  a  projecting 
shoulder,  Little  Bat  looked  back  and  motioned  to  the 
colonel,  "This  way."  And  then  the  leading  horse 
men  began  to  ascend  a  gentle  and  almost  imper 
ceptible  slope,  for  the  snow  was  sifting  down  so 
thick  and  fast  that  the  surface  was  invisible  thirty  feet 
ahead. 

"We  might  ride  square  in  among  them  at  this 
rate,"  muttered  the  sergeant-major  to  his  friend,  the 


FORT    FRAYNE.  43 

chief  trumpeter,  "and  never  know  it  until  we 
stumbled  into  the  tepees." 

"  How  far  ahead  is  it?  "  asked  the  latter. 

"  A  mile,  they  say.  We'd  be  deployed  by  this 
time  if  it  were  less." 

Less  than  five  minutes  of  gradual  ascent,  and  the 
crest  of  the  divide  was  reached,  and,  one  after 
another,  every  horseman  realized  that  he  was  then  on 
the  downward  slope  of  the  eastern  side.  Somewhere 
ahead,  somewhere  between  this  ridge  and  its  nearest 
neighbor,  lay  the  hostile  village,  all  unconscious  of 
foemen's  coming,  looking  for  disturbers  as  yet  only 
from  the  eastern  side.  Old  cavalrymen  used  to  de 
clare  their  horses  could  smell  an  Indian  village  be 
fore  the  sharpest  eyes  could  "sight"  it,  and  the 
packers  swore  the  statement  was  true,  "if  it  were 
only  made  of  the  mule." 

"The  colonel  knows.  He  hasn't  forgotten,  you 
bet,"  was  the  comment,  as  again  the  orderly  rode 
swiftly  rearward  with  orders  for  the  pack  train  to 
halt  just  west  of  the  crest,  and  then  every  man 
seemed  to  know  that  the  village  couldn't  be  far 
ahead,  and  some  hands  went  nervously  to  the 
holster  flaps,  others  loosened  the  carbines  in  their 
leather  sockets,  and  men  took  furtive  peeps  at  one 
another's  faces  along  the  shadowy  column,  and  then 
at  their  officers  riding  so  confident  and  erect  along 
the  left  flank.  And  still  no  man  could  see  more  than 
the  depth  of  three  sets  of  fours  ahead.  "  Ain't  we 
going  to  dismount  and  go  afoot?  "  muttered  a  young 


44  FORT    FRAYNE. 

recruit  to  his  neighbor.  "I  thought  that  was  the 
way  we  always  did." 

"  Of  course;  when  one  could  see  to  shoot  and 
would  be  seen  himself  anywhere  within  five  miles," 
was  the  disdainful  answer.  "  What'd  be  the  good 
of  dismounting  here?" 

And  now  in  places  the  horses  plunged  deeper  into 
the  snow  and  tossed  up  drifting  clouds  of  feathery 
spray  as  the  column  crossed  some  shallow  ruts  in 
the  eastward  face,  and  then  once  more,  snakelike,  it 
began  to  twist  and  turn,  following  the  track  of  those 
invisible  guides,  and  then  it  seemed  to  take  to  evil 
courses  and  go  spluttering  down  into  sharp,  stecp- 
bauked  coulees,  and  scrambling  out  again  on  the 
other  side,  and  still  the  sure-footed  horses  tripped 
nimbly  on,  and  then,  presently,  his  eyes  a-twinkle, 
the  adjutant  came  riding  back. 

"Just  half  a  mile  ahead,  Billy,"  he  murmured  to 
the  lieutenant  riding  in  Leale's  place  at  the  head  of 
the  first  troop.  "Form  left  front  into  line  and  halt. 
I'll  post  the  other  troop." 

Quickly  the  young  officer  reined  out  of  column  to 
the  left  about.  "Keep  straight  to  your  front,  lead 
ing  four,"  he  cautioned.  Then  barely  raising  his 
voice  and  dropping  for  the  time  the  conventional 
commands  of  the  drill  book,  he  rode  back  along 
the  column,  saying  "Left  front  into  line,"  until  all 
the  rearward  fours  were  obliquing;  then  back  to  the 
front  he  trotted,  halted  the  leading  set,  each  of  the 
others  in  succession  reining  in  and  generally  align 
ing  itself,  all  without  a  sound  that  could  be  audible 


FORT   FRAYNE.  45 

ten  yards  away.  Almost  at  the  same  time  the  sec 
ond  troop  headed  diagonally  off  to  the  left  and  pres 
ently  rode  up  into  line  with  the  first,  while  the  third 
and  fourth  were  halted  in  similar  formation  at  troop 
distance  in  rear.  "By  all  that's  glorious,  we're 
going  in  mounted!"  was  the  word  that  seemed  to 
thrill  down  along  the  line.  "Then  we're  not  going 
to  wait — not  going  to  give  him  a  chance  to  sur 
render." 

Another  moment  and  the  word  was,  "Hush! 
silence  there!"  for  dimly  seen  through  the  drifts,  the 
colonel,  with  his  little  party  of  attendants,  came 
riding  to  the  front  of  the  line.  Long,  long  after 
ward  they  remembered  that  clear-cut,  soldierly,  high 
bred  face,  with  its  aquiline  nose,  keen,  kindly, 
deep-set  eyes,  the  gray-white  mustache,  snow-white 
now,  as  was  his  close-cropped  hair. 

"  Men,"  said  he  in  the  firm  tones  they  had  known 
so  long  and  well,  "fully  half  the  band  are  some  miles 
away,  but  Kill  Eagle,  with  over  a  hundred  warriors, 
is  right  here  in  our  front;  so,  too,  are  his  women 
and  children;  so,  too,  worse  luck,  are  some  of  our 
own  unhappy  captives.  You  all  know  the  first  thing 
those  Indians  would  do,  were  we  to  attack  as  usual, 
would  be  to  murder  those  poor  white  women.  This 
snowstorm  is  in  our  favor.  We  can  creep  right 
in  upon  them  before  we  charge.  The  ponies  are 
down  in  the  valley  to  the  south.  Let  the  first  line 
dash  straight  through  the  village  and  stampede  the 
herd,  then  rally  and  return.  Let  the  second  follow 
at  a  hundred  yards  and  surround  the  tepees  at  the 


46  FOKT    FRAYXE. 

eastward  end — what  Avhite  women  are  with  them  are 
there.  The  Indian  men,  as  a  rule,  will  make  a  dash 
in  the  direction  of  the  ponies.  Shoot  them  down 
wherever  you  can,  but  mark  my  words  now,  be  care 
ful  of  the  women  and  children.  I  had  intended 
summoning  Kill  Eagle  to  surrender,  but  we  did  not 
begin  to  know  he  had  so  many  warriors  close  at 
hand,  and  did  not  know  about  the  captives.  Bat 
has  seen,  and  that  is  enough.  There  is  no  other 
way  to  settle  it.  It's  the  one  chance  of  rescuing 
those  poor  creatures.  Now  keep  together.  Watch 
your  officers'  commands  and  signals  and  spare  the 
squaws  and  papooses.  Be  ready  in  two  minutes." 

And  then  every  man  took  a  long  breath,  while  the 
colonel  rode  through  to  say  similar  words  to  the  sec 
ond  line.  Then,  returning,  he  placed  himself  just 
in  the  rear  of  the  center  of  the  first  squadron,  the 
second  line  noiselessly  advancing  and  closing  up  on 
the  leaders,  and  then  he  seemed  to  think  of  another 
point. 

"Ask  Mr.  Ormsby  if  he  will  ride  with  me,"  said 
he  to  the  adjutant.  "  Now,  Leale,  forward  at  a 
walk.  Follow  Bat.  It's  all  level  ahead  of  you. 
You'll  sight  the  village  in  three  or  four  minutes. 

The  tall,  stalwart  captain  touched  his  hat,  took  off 
his  "broadbrim,"  shaking  away  a  load  of  snow,  and 
spurred  out  a  little  to  the  front.  There,  looking  back 
to  both  his  right  and  left,  he  gave  the  signal  forward, 
and  with  almost  a  single  impulse,  the  long  dark  rank 
of  horsemen,  open  at  the  center  in  an  interval  of 
some  half  a  dozen  yards,  without  other  sound  than 


FORT    FKAYNE.  47 

the  slight  rattle  of  accoutrements  and  the  muffled 
rumble  of  five  hundred  hoofs,  moved  steadily  forward. 
A  moment  the  colonel  sat  and  watched  them,  smiled  a 
cordial  greeting  to  Ormsby,  who,  pistol  in  hand, 
came  trotting  over  with  the  adjutant,  then  signaling 
to  the  second  line,  he  too  gave  his  horse  the  rein,  and 
at  a  steady  walk  followed  close  to  the  center  of  Leale's 
command.  In  his  hand  at  the  moment  he  held  a  lit 
tle  pocket  compass,  and  smiled  as  he  noted  the  line 
of  direction. 

"Almost  due  southeast  at  this  instant,"  said  he. 
"We  ought  to  bag  our  game  and  be  well  across  the 
Mini  Pusa  with  them  in  less  than  an  hour." 

Unconsciously  the  pace  was  quickening.  Fore 
most  of  all,  well  out  in  front  of  the  center,  rode  the 
half-breed  Indian  guide,  bending  low  over  his  pony's 
neck,  his  black,  beady  eyes  peering  ahead.  Well 
out  to  the  right  and  left  were  other  scouts,  eager  and 
alert,  like  Bat  himself.  Then,  squarely  in  the  cen 
ter,  on  his  big,  powerful  bay,  rode  Leale,  commander 
of  the  foremost  line,  and  Ormsby' s  soldierly  heart 
throbbed  with  admiration  as  he  marked,  just  before 
Leale  was  hidden  from  view,  his  spirited,  confident 
bearing,  and  noted  how  the  eyes  of  all  the  line  seemed 
fixed  on  their  gallant  leader.  And  now  some  of 
the  horses  began  to  dance  and  tug  at  the  bit  and 
plunge,  and  others  to  take  a  jog  trot,  for  the  Indian 
scouts  were  at  the  lope,  and  their  gesticulations  be 
came  every  moment  more  vehement,  and  then  Bat  was 
seen,  though  visible  only  to  the  first  line,  to  grab  his 
revolver,and  Leale's  gauntleted  hand  almost  instantly 


48  FORT    FRAYNE. 

sought  the  holster,  and  out  came  the  ready  Colt,  its 
muzzle  raised  in  air.  Out  in  quick  and  ready  imita 
tion  leaped  a  hundred  more,  and  instinctively  the  jog 
changed  to  a  lively  trot,  and  the  dull,  thudding  hoofs 
upon  the  snow-nmffled  earth  rose  louder  and  more 
insistent,  and  Ormsby,  riding  at  the  colonel's  left, 
gripped  tighter  his  revolver  and  set  his  teeth,  yet 
felt  his  heart  was  hammering  loud,  and  then  dimmer 
and  dimmer  grew  the  first  line  as  it  led  away,  and 
still  the  colonel's  firm  hand  kept  Roderick  dancing 
impatiently  at  the  slower  gait  and  then,  just  as  it 
seemed  as  though  the  line  would  be  swallowed  up  in 
snow  and  disappear  from  view,  quick  and  sudden, 
two  muffled  shots  were  heard  from  somewhere  just 
in  front,  the  first  syllable  perhaps  of  some  stentorian 
shout  of  warning,  and  then  one  magnificent  burst  of 
cheers  and  a  rush  of  charging  men,  and  a  crash  and 
a  crackle  and  sputter  of  shots,  and  then  fierce  rally 
ing  cries  and  piercing  screams  of  women  and  of  ter 
rified  little  ones,  and  like  some  huge  human  wave  the 
first  line  of  the  Twelfth  rode  on  and  over  and 
through  the  startled  camp,  and  bore  like  a  whirlwind, 
yelling  down  upon  the  pony  herds  beyond. 

And  now  comes  the  turn  of  the  second  line.  Seek 
ing  shelter  from  the  snowstorm,  warriors, women  and 
children  were  for  the  most  part  within  the  tepees,  as 
the  line  crashed  in.  Some  few  were  with  the  miser 
able  captives,  but  at  the  first  sound  of  danger  every 
warrior  had  seized  his  rifle  and  rushed  for  the  open 
air.  Some  few,  throwing  themselves  upon  their 
faces,  fired  wild  shots  at  the  foremost  troopers  as 


FORT    FRAYXE.  49 

they  came  bounding  through,  but  as  a  rule  only  a 
few  opposed  their  passage,  so  sudden  was  the  shock. 
Then  came  the  realization  that  the  herds  were 
being  driven,  and  that  not  an  instant  must  be  lost  in 
mounting  such  ponies  as  were  still  tethered  about  the 
villages,  and  darting  away  in  a  wide  circle,  away 
from  the  troops,  yet  concentrating  again  beyond 
them  and  regaining  the  lead.  And  so,  where  the  first 
line  met  an  apparently  sleeping  village,  the  second 
comes  cheering,  charging,  firing,  thundering  through 
a  swarming  mob  of  yelling  braves  and  screaming 
squaws.  Farrar,  foremost  in  the  charge,  with  the 
civilian  guardsman  close  at  his  side,  shouts  warning 
to  the  women,  even  as  he  empties  his  pistol  at  the 
howling  men.  Close  at  his  back  come  Amory  and 
his  sorrel  troop,  cheering  like  mad,  battering  over 
Indians  too  slow  to  jump  aside,  and  driving  their  hiss 
ing  lead  at  every  warrior  in  their  path.  And  still 
the  colonel  shouts,  "This  way!"  and  Ormsby,  Amory, 
and  the  adjutant  ride  at  his  heels,  and  the  sorrels 
especially  follow  his  lead,  and  dashing  through  a 
labyrinth  of  lodges,  they  rein  up  cheering  about  two 
grimy  tepees  at  which  Bat  is  excitedly  pointing  and 
the  ranchmen  both  are  shouting  the  names  of  loved 
relatives  and  listening  eagerly  for  answer;  and  thrill 
ing  voices  within  are  crying,  "Here!  Here!"  and 
stalwart  men,  springing  from  saddle,  are  rushing  in, 
pistol  in  hand,  and  tearing  aside  the  flimsy  barriers 
that  hide  the  rescued  captives  from  the  eyes  of  their 
deliverers,  and  the  other  troop,  reinforced  again  by 
strong  squads  from  Leale's  rallied  line,  are  dashing 

4 


50  FORT    FRAYNE. 

to  and  fro  through  the  village,  firing  at  the  Indians 
who  are  scurrying  away.  Just  as  Amory  and  the 
adjutant  charge  at  a  little  knot  of  scowling  redskins 
whose  rifles  are  blazing  at  them  at  not  a  dozen  yards' 
distance,  just  as  the  good  old  colonel,  afoot  now,  is 
clasping  the  hand  of  some  poor  woman  whose  last 
hope  was  gone  but  a  moment  before,  and  even  while 
listening  to  her  frantic  blessings,  finds  time  to  shout 
again  to  his  half  maddened  men,  "Don't  hurt  the 
women,  lads!  Look  out  for  the  children!  "  a  hag- 
like,  blanketed  fury  of  a  Brule  squaw  springs  from 
behind  the  shelter  of  a  pile  of  robes,  levels  her  re 
volver,  and,  pulling  trigger  at  the  instant,  leaps 
screaming  down  into  the  creek  bottom,  leaving  Farrar 
sinking  slowly  into  the  snow. 

An  hour  later,  with  strong  skirmish  lines  out  on 
every  side  of  the  captured  village,  with  a  score  of 
Indian  warriors  sent  to  their  last  account  and  the 
others  scattered  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  the  little 
battalion  of  the  Twelfth  is  wondering  if,  after  all, 
the  fight  were  worth  winning,  for  here  in  their  midst, 
his  head  on  Leale's  arm,  his  fading  sight  fixed  on  the 
tear-dimmed  eyes  of  his  faithful  comrade,  here  lies 
their  beloved  old  colonel,  his  last  messages  murmured 
in  that  listening  ear:  "Leale — old  friend — find— find 
that  poor  girl — my — my  son  robbed  and  ruined  and 
deserted — and  be  the  friend  to  her — you've  been  to 
me — and  mine.  God  bless — 

And  this — while  the  regiment,  obeying  its  stern 
duty,  goes  on  in  pursuit — this  is  the  news  Jack 
Ormsby  has  to  break  to  the  loving,  breaking  hearts 
at  Fray  ne. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ALL  this  was  but  part  and  parcel  of  the  story  of 
the  old  Wyoming  fort.  Long  years  had  it  served  as 
refuge  and  resting  place  for  the  emigrants  in  the  days 
before  the  Union  Pacific  was  built,  when  the  over 
land  stage  route  followed  the  Platte  to  the  Sweet- 
water,  and  then  past  the  Devil's  Gate  and  Independ 
ence  Rock,  old  land-marks  of  the  Mormons,  and  on 
to  the  back-bone  of  the  continent,  where  the  mountain 
streams,  springing  from  rocky  beds  not  long  pistol 
shot  apart,  flowed  rippling  away,  the  one  to  the  Mis 
souri  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  the  other  to  the  Col 
orado  and  that  of  California.  Frayne  was  but  a  huge 
stockade  in  the  early  days  of  the  civil  war,  but  the 
government  found  it  important  from  a  strategical 
point  of  view,  even  after  the  railway  spanned  the 
Rockies,  and  the  emigrant  and  the  settler  no  longer 
trudged  the  weary  trail  that,  bordering  the  Sioux 
country,  became  speedily  a  road  of  fire  and  blood, 
second  only  in  its  terrors  to  the  Smoky  Hill  route 
through  "bleeding  Kansas."  Once  it  was  the  boast 
of  the  Dakotas,  as  it  has  been  for  generations  of  their 
enemies,  the  Absarakas,  or  Crows,  that  they  had 
never  shed  the  blood  of  a  white  man.  Settlers  of  the 
old  days  used  to  tell  how  the  Sioux  had  followed 
them  for  long,  long  marches,  not  to  murder  and  pil 
lage,  but  to  restore  to  them  items  lost  along  the  trail 
or  animals  strayed  from  their  little  herds.  But  there 


52  FORT    FRAYNE. 

came  an  end  to  all  this,  when,  resisting  an  unjust  de 
mand,  the  Sioux  being  fired  upon,  retaliated.  From  the 
day  of  the  Grattan  massacre  beyond  old  Laramie, 
there  had  been  no  real  peace  with  the  lords  of  the 
Northwest.  They  are  quiet  only  when  subdued  by 
force.  They  have  broken  the  crust  of  their  environ 
ment  time  and  again  and  burst  forth  in  the  seething 
flame  of  a  volcano  that  is  ever  bubbling  and  boiling  be 
neath  the  feet  of  the  frontiersman  to  this  day. 

And  so  Frayne  was  maintained  as  a  military  post  for 
years,  first  as  a  stockade,  then  as  a  sub-depot  of  supplies, 
garrisoned  by  four  companies  of  infantry  and  four 
of  cavalry,  the  former  to  hold  the  fort,  the  latter  to 
scour  the  neighboring  country.  Then  as  time  wore 
on  and  other  posts  were  built  further  up  in  the  Big 
Horn,  Frayne's  garrison  dwindled,  but  there  stood 
upon  its  commanding  bluff  the  low  rows  of  wooden 
barracks,  the  parallel  rows  of  double  sets  of  broad- 
piazzaed  quarters  where  dwelt  the  officers,  the  long, 
low,  log-revetted  walls  of  the  corrals  and  cavalry 
stables  on  the  flat  below.  Here,  oddly  enough,  the 
Twelfth  had  spent  a  lively  year  or  two  before  it 
went  to  Arizona.  Here  it  learned  the  Sioux  country 
and  the  Sioux  so  well  that  when,  a  few  years  back, 
the  ghost  dance  craze  swept  over  the  plains  and 
mountains  like  the  plague,  the  old  regiment  was 
hurried  from  its  sunshiny  stations  in  the  south  and 
mustered  once  again,  four  troops  at  least,  within  the 
very  walls  that  long  before  had  echoed  to  its 
trumpets.  Here  we  found  them  in  the  midst  of 
the  Christmas  preparations  that  were  turned  so 


FOET   FEAYXE.  53 

suddenly  into  summons  to  the  field,  and  here  again, 
three  years  later  still,  headquarters  arid  six  troops 
now,  the  proud  old  regiment  is  still  at  Frayne,  and 
Fenton  "  vice-Farrar,  killed  in  action  with  hostile 
Indians,"  holds  the  command. 

A  good  soldier  is  Fenton  ;  a  brave  fellow,  a  trifle 
rough  at  times,  like  the  simple  plains-bred  dragoon  he 
is,  but  a  gentleman  with  a  gentle  heart  in  his  breast 

*  O  ~ 

for  all  the  stern  exterior.  Women  said  of  him  that  all 
he  needed  to  make  him  perfect  was  polish,  and  all  he 
needed  to  give  him  polish  was  a  wife,  for  at  fifty-four 
the  grizzled  colonel  was  a  bachelor.  But  Fenton  had 
had  his  romance  in  early  youth.  He  had  loved  with 
all  his  big  heart,  so  said  tradition,  a  New  York  belle 
and  beauty  whom  he  knew  in  his  cadet  days,  and 
who,  so  rumor  said,  preferred  another,  whom  she 
married  before  the  war,  and  many  a  garrison  belle 
had  since  set  her  cap  for  Fenton,  and  found  him 
faithful  to  his  early  love.  But,  though  the  ladies 
often  speculated  as  to  the  identity  of  the  woman  who 
had  held  the  colonel's  heart  in  bondage  all  these 
years  and  blocked  the  way  for  all  successors,  no  one 
of  their  number  had  ever  heard  her  name  or  ever 
knew  the  truth.  One  officer  there  was  in  the 
Twelfth  who,  like  Fenton  himself,  was  a  confirmed 
bachelor,  and  who  was  said  to  be  possessed  of  the 
whole  story,  but  there  was  no  use  asking  Malcolm 
Leale  to  tell  anybody's  secrets,  and  when  Fenton 
came  to  Frayne,  promoted  to  the  command  so 
recently  held  by  a  man  they  all  loved  and  honored, 
it  was  patent  to  everybody  that  he  felt  sorely,  as 


54  FORT    FRAYNE. 

though  he  were  an  usurper.  Fenton  was  many  long 
miles  away,  with  another  battalion  of  the  Twelfth, 
the  day  of  the  tragic  battle  on  the  Mini  Pusa,  and  it 
was  long  months  thereafter  before  he  appeared  at 
regimental  headquarters,  and  then  he  brought  with 
him  as  his  housekeeper  his  maiden  sister,  Lucretia, 
and  in  Lucretia  Fenton — the  dreamiest,  dowdiest, 
kindliest,  quaintest,  middle-aged  prattler  that  ever 
lived,  moved,  and  had  her  being  in  the  army — the 
ladies  of  the  Twelfth  found  so  much  to  make  merry 
over  that  they  well-nigh  forgot  and  forgave  the 
unflattering  indifference  to  feminine  fascinations  of 
her  brother,  the  colonel. 

When  Fenton  came,  the  Farrars,  widowed  mother 
and  devoted  daughter,  had  been  gone  some  weeks. 
The  shock  of  her  husband's  death  had  well-nigh 
shaken  Mrs.  Farrar's  reason,  and  for  months  her 
condition  was  indeed  deplorable.  Loving  him 
devotedly,  glorying  in  his  soldierly  record  and 
reputation,  yet  ever  dreading  for  him  just  such  an 
end,  she  had  been  so  prostrated  by  her  grief  that 
Ellis  almost  forgot  her  own  bitter  sorrow  in  the 
contemplation  of  her  mother's  woe.  For  months  the 
daughter  was  her  main  prop  and  comfort  and  attend 
ant.  Will,  her  bright,  brave  boy,  could  not  be 
permitted  to  leave  his  studies  at  the  Point.  Royle, 
her  first-born,  was  an  outcast  and  wanderer  she  knew 
not  Avhere.  Ellis,  her  youngest,  her  one  daughter, 
proved  to  be  her  chief  dependence.  Loving  friends 
and  relatives  she  had  in  plenty,  to  be  sure,  and, 
through  the  providence  of  her  soldier  husband,  her 


FORT    FRAYXE.  55 

fortune  was  unimpaired,  and,  fortunately,  more  than 
sufficient  for  her  needs.  And  so,  for  over  six 
months  after  that  fatal  Christmastide,  the  widow 
lay  either  apathetic  or  in  the  depths  of  an  over 
whelming  grief,  and  Ellis  never  left  her  side.  And 
then  they  went  for  a  summer  at  the  seashore,  for 
Ellis  herself  was  drooping,  and  then  while  visiting 
at  her  own  sister's  home  Mrs.  Farrar  began  to 
realize  how  all  this  time  Ellis 's  education  was  being 
neglected,  and,  despite  her  protest,  the  girl  was  sent 
back  to  school  in  New  York,  where  she  could  be 
within  call.  This  was  her  one  stipulation,  for  Ellis 
well  knew  what  her  mother  only  faintly  suspected — 
that  no  more  sudden  shocks  could  come  into  the 
gentle  sufferer's  life,  without  danger  of  ending  it  at 
once. 

And  all  this  time  Jack  Ormsby  had  been  so  help 
ful,  thoughtful  and  attentive.  It  was  he  who  met 
them  and  escorted  them,  most  of  that  miserable 
homeward  way.  For  the  time  being,  at  least,  the 
honored  remains  of  the  grand  old  colonel  had  been 
laid  to  rest  under  the  shadow  of  the  flag  at  the  post 
he  had  so  well  commanded,  but  in  the  course  of  the 
second  year  they  were  brought  East  and  buried  in 
the  beautiful  cemetery  near  his  own  father's  side, 
and  the  veterans  of  a  famous  regiment  bowed  their 
heads  beside  the  helmeted  regulars  from  the  forts  in 
the  harbor,  and  Jack's  company  sent  a  superb  floral 
emblem  to  be  laid  on  the  flag-draped  coffin  of  the 
commander  by  whose  side  their  popular  sergeant  had 
won  his  spurs  in  Indian  battle.  A  famous  fellow, 


56  FORT    FRAYNE. 

with  all  his  modesty  and  good  sense,  was  Jack 
Ormsby  in  the  armory  of  the  Seventh  all  the  year 
that  followed  his  homecoming  from  the  Sioux 
campaign,  and  again  and  again  did  his  comrades  make 
him  tell  the  story  of  his  sensations  and  experiences 
when  he  followed  Farrar  into  the  heart  of  that  fire- 
spitting  village,  through  that  veil  of  softly  falling 
snow.  How  red  it  grew  in  many  a  place!  What 
scenes  of  carnage  were  there  not  after  the  noble 
colonel  fell!  Jack's  brain  used  to  turn  sick  at  the 
thought  of  it  sometimes,  but  still  there  Avas  the 
exultation  of  the  rescue  of  those  helpless  captives, 
those  poor  women,  being  dragged  away  to  a  fate  to 
which  torture  at  the  stake  were  mercy.  There  \vas 
the  triumph  of  the  overwhelming  defeat  and  punish 
ment  of  that  great  village  of  hostiles  even  when  it 
was  reinforced,  as  it  soon  was,  by  the  return  of  many 
of  the  warriors  who  had  been  watching  and  hinder 
ing  the  pursuit  of  the  Eleventh.  Leale  had  taken 
command,  cool,  yet  raging  over  the  murder  of  his 
beloved  chief,  and  while  even  then  seeking  to  carry 
out  Farrar 's  injunctions  to  protect  the  women  and 
children,  had  dealt  vengefully  with  the  warriors  who 
had  rallied  to  the  attack.  Ormsby  was  through  it 
all,  and  bore  himself  like  a  man  and  a  sergeant,  even 
of  the  Seventh,  and  swore  that  his  Creedmoor  train 
ing  had  been  more  than  enough  to  help  him  empty  at 
least  two  saddles.  If  he  had  "  only  had  my  old  Rem 
ington,"  said  he,  "instead  of  a  cavalry  carbine,  Kill 
Eagle  himself  would  have  bit  the  dust, "  for  twice  he 
drew  bead  upon  that  savage  chief  when  the  snow 


FOKT    FRAYNE.  57 

clouds  lifted  late  in  the  afternoon  and  let  the  battle- 
Meld  be  seen.  Great  work  had  the  little  battalion 
done  that  day,  but  all  the  same  were  they  glad  to  see 
the  coming  column  of  the  Eleventh  just  before  the 
red,  red  sun  went  down. 

Once,  just  once,  after  they  had  been  home  about  a 
month,  Ellis  made  him  tell  her  something  of  that 
stirring,  fatal  day,  but  soon  she  shut  her  ears  and 
fled.  Ormsby  came  again.  He  began  coming  often 
— so  often  that  that  became  one  reason  why  it  was 
deemed  best  that  Ellis  should  return  to  school.  Mr. 
Ormsby  was  a  very  fine  fellow,  and  all  that,  said 
Mrs.  Farrar's  many  relatives,  but,  really,  "Ellis  is 
still  too  young,  and  she  might  do  better,"  and  so 
poor  Jack,  who  was  learning  to  do  nothing  less  than 
worship  that  exquisite  face,  so  pathetic  above  the 
deep  mourning  of  her  attire,  became  dismal  in  his 
turn  and  found  no  comfort  in  anything  outside  of  the 
armory  or  "Wall  Street. 

The  next  summer  the  Farrars  spent  at  West  Point. 
It  was  Will's  first  class  camp,  and  Will  was  cadet 
captain  of  the  color  company,  and  a  capital  young 
officer  despite  a  boyish  face  and  manner,  and  then 
Jack  Ormsby,  who  never  before  had  "  taken  much 
stock  in  West  Point  " — the  battalion  looked  so  small 
beside  the  Seventh,  and  the  band  was  such  a 
miserable  little  affair  after  Cappa  and  his  superb 
array — Jack  not  only  concluded  that  he  must  go  up 
there  every  few  days  to  pick  up  points  on  guard  and 
sentry  duty  and  things  of  that  kind,  but  Jack  de 
cided  that  Kitty,  his  precious  sister,  might  as  well 


58  FORT    FRAYNE. 

go,  too,  and  spend  a  fortnight,  and  she  did,  under 
the  wing  of  a  matron  from  Gotham  with  daughters 
of  her  own,  and  Kitty  Ormsby,  only  sixteen,  and  as 
full  of  vivacity,  grace,  sprightliness,  and  winning 
ways  as  girl  could  be,  pretty  as  a  peach,  and 
brimming  over  with  fun,  coquetry  and  sweetness 
combined,  played  havoc  in  the  corps  of  cadets,  and 
— could  anything  have  been  more  fortunate? — the 
victim,  most  helplessly,  hopelessly,  utterly  gone  was 
Cadet  Captain  Will  Farrar.  To  the  contsernation  of 
the  widowed  mother  she  saw  her  handsome  soldier 
boy  led  day  after  day  more  deeply  into  the  meshes, 
led  like  a  slave,  or  like  the  piggy  in  the  nursery 
rhyme  with  the  ring  in  the  end  of  his  nose,  by  this 
bewitching,  imperious,  fascinating  little  creature, 
and  there  was  absolutely  no  help  for  it.  Anywhere 
else,  almost,  she  could  have  whisked  her  boy  under 
her  wing,  and  borne  him  away  beyond  range,  but 
not  at  West  Point.  She  had  to  learn  the  lesson  so 
many  mothers  learn  with  such  bewilderment,  often 
with  such  ill  grace,  that  the  boy  was  no  longer  hers 
to  do  with  as  she  would,  but  Uncle  Sam's,  and 
Uncle  Sam  unfeelingly  said  stick  to  your  camp  duty 
with  its  drills  and  parades,  roll  calls,  practical 
engineering,  pontooning,  and  spooning  in  stolen 
half  hours,  no  matter  what  the  consequence.  Mrs. 
Farrar  couldn't  carry  Will  away,  and  couldn't  order 
Kitty.  About  all  she  saw  of  her  boy  was  drilling 
with  the  battalion  at  a  distance  or  dancing  with  Miss 
Ormsby  close  at  hand,  and,  on  the  principle  that 
misery  loves  company,  she  soon  was  comforted  by  a 


FORT    FRAY3STE.  59 

fellow  sufferer,  for  just  in  proportion  as  the  mother 
heart  was  troubled  by  the  sight  of  her  boy's  infatu 
ation  for  this  pretty  child,  so  was  Jack  Ormsby 
made  miserable  by  seeing  the  attentions  lavished  by 
officers  and  cadets  alike  on  Ellis  Farrar. 

And  yet  the  little  blind  god  was  doing  Jack  far 
better  work  than  he  ever  dared  to  dream.  The  mother 
longed  for  Will  and  no  one  else  could  quite  take  his 
place.  The  lover  longed  for  Ellis,  and  what  earthly 
chance  has  a  "cit"  lover  at  West  Point,  even 
though  he  be  a  swell  and  a  sergeant  in  the  Seventh? 
It  resulted  that  in  the  hours  when  the  mother  and 
Jack  had  to  sit  and  look  on  they  were  brought  con 
stantly  together,  and  then  in  these  hours  of  com 
panionship  Mrs.  Farrar  began  to  see  more  and  more 
how  manful,  honest,  self-reliant  was  the  gallant 
fellow  who  had  fought  by  her  husband's  side.  Little 
by  little  she  learned  to  lean  upon  him,  appeal  to  him, 
defer  to  him,  and  to  see  in  him,  after  all,  a  man  in 
whom  she  could  perhaps  confide  even  so  precious  a 
trust  as  her  daughter's  heart,  and  that  summer  at 
West  Point  Avon  the  mother  even  if  it  did  not  win  the 
lady  of  his  love. 

That  winter  the  boys  came  down  to  New  York, 
half  a  dozen  of  Will's  classmates,  for  Christmas 
leave,  and  such  a  day  and  night  of  adulation  as  they 
received!  At  last  did  Mrs.  Farrar  quit  her  seclusion 
to  give  a  little  dinner  in  their  honor,  and  consent  to 
attend,  as  a  looker-on,  the  dance  that  night  at 
Sherry's,  where  Ellis  gave  Ormsby  one  blessed  waltz 
and  Kitty  gave  Will  the  mitten.  Oh,  darts  and 


60  FOET    FKAYNE. 

flames  and  furies,  what  a  turmoil  there  was  over  that 
Christmas  dance!  Will  had  to  go  back  with  his 
classmates  in  time  to  report  at  a  certain  hour,  but  he 
told  his  mother  in  tragic  tone  that  all  was  over  be 
tween  him  and  Miss  Ormsby,  forever- — forever — and 
so,  perhaps,  it  might  have  been  had  Kitty  so  minded. 
She  had  flirted  outrageously  with  Charley  Bates,  a 
fellow  Will  Farrar  simply  couldn't  bear,  and,  though 
neither  would  admit  that  a  girl  hud  anything  to  do 
with  it,  there  was  the  usual  cadet  challenge  and  as 
spirited  a  midwinter  "mill"  as  ever  was  seen  in 
cadet  barracks — a  "  mill  "  in  which  Farrar  fought 
like  a  hero  and  was  only  knocked  out  after  having 
been  knocked  down  time  and  again,  and  then  Kitty 
was  properly  punished,  for  Will  was  still  in  hospital 
when  the  New  Year's  hop  came  off,  battered  and 
bruised  and  generally  miserable,  while  Bates,  though 
mouse-colored  as  to  his  eyes,  was  able  to  attend,  but 
Kitty  went  up  to  Craney's  with  Mrs.  Farrar,  a 
penitent  indeed,  and  never  went  near  the  hop,  but 
had  Will  in  ecstasy  and  a  dark  corner  of  the  parlor 
for  a  long,  long  hour,  and  cried  and  cooed  over  and 
comforted  him  and  surrendered  at  discretion.  Will 
Farrar  was  practically  an  engaged  man  when  he  was 
graduated  in  June — and  only  twenty-one. 

All  that  winter  Ellis  had  continued  her  course  at 
school,  but  was  to  come  out  in  May,  and  during  the 
long  months  from  September  she  was  comforted  in  the 
comfort  her  mother  found  in  the  companion  that 
had  been  chosen  for  her,  a  gentle,  refined,  and  evi 
dently  well-bred  woman,  who  came  upon  the  recom- 


FORT    FRAYNE.  61 

mendation  of  their  rector,  and  who  was  introduced 
as  Mrs.  Daunton — Helen  Daunton,  a  woman  with  a 
sad  history,  as  the  grave  old  pastor  frankly  told 
them,  but  through  no  fault  or  foible  of  her  own. 
She  had  been  married,  but  her  husband  was  un 
worthy  of  her,  had  deserted  her  some  years  before, 
leaving  her  to  struggle  for  herself.  Dr.  Morgan 
vouched  for  her  integrity  and  that  was  enough.  By 
the  time  Ellis  was  to  return  to  her  mother's  roof 
Helen  Daunton  was  so  thoroughly  established  there, 
so  necessary  to  her  mother,  so  devoted  to  her  in 
every  way,  that  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  even 
while  glad  to  mark  the  steps  of  improvement  in  the 
beloved  invalid's  health  and  appearance,  Ellis  Farrar 
felt  the  pangs  of  jealousy. 

And  this  was  Will's  graduation  summer,  and  they 
had  a  lovely  time  at  the  seashore.  Kitty  was  there, 
and  Kitty  was  an  accepted  fact — and  more  so — now. 
Will  would  be  content  nowhere  without  her,  and 
would  have  married  her  then  and  there  but  for  his 
mother's  gentle  admonition,  and  Kitty's  positive  re 
fusal.  She  had  been  reared  from  girlhood  by  a 
doting  aunt,  had  been  petted  and  spoiled  at  home 
and  at  school,  and  yet  had  not  a  little  fund  of  shrewd 
good  sense  in  her  bewilderingly  pretty  head.  She 
wouldn't  wear  an  engagment  ring,  wouldn't  consent 
to  call  it  an  engagement.  She  owned,  under 
pressure,  that  she  meant  to  marry  Will  some  day, 
but  not  in  any  hurry,  and,  therefore,  but  for  one 
thing,  the  mother's  gentle  heart  would  have  been 
content. 


62  FORT    FRAYNE. 

And  that  one  thing  was  that  Will  had  applied  for 
and  would  hear  of  no  other  regiment  in  all  the  army 
than  that  at  the  head  of  which  his  father  had  died — 
the  Twelfth  Cavalry,  and  no  one  could  understand, 
and  Mrs.  Farrar  couldn't  explain,  how  it  was — why 
it  was  that  that  of  all  others  was  the  one  she  had 
vainly  hoped  he  would  not  choose.  He  was  wild 
with  joy  and  enthusiasm  when  at  last  the  order  came, 
and  with  beaming  eyes  and  ringing  voice  he  read 
aloud,  "  '  Twelfth  regiment  of  cavalry,  Cadet  Will 
Duncan  Farrar,  to  be  second  lieutenant,  vice  Watson, 
promoted,  Troop  <C.'  Leale's  troop,  Queen 
Mother — blessed  old  Malcolm  Leale.  What  more 
could  I  ask  or  you  ask?  What  captain  in  all  the  line 
can  match  him?  And  Kitty's  uncle  in  command  of 
the  regiment  and  post!  Just  think  of  it,  Madre 
dear,  and  you'll  all  come  out  and  we'll  have  grand 
Christmas  times  at  Frayne,  and  we'll  hang  father's 
picture  over  the  mantel  and  father's  sword.  I'll 
wire  Leale  this  very  minute,  and  write  my  respects 
to  Fenton.  What's  he  like,  anyway,  mother?  T 
can't  remember  him  at  all — nor  can  Kitty." 

But  Mrs.  Farrar  could  not  tell.  It  was  years,  too, 
since  she  had  seen  him,  "  but  he  was  always  a  faith 
ful  friend  of  your  father,  Will,  and  he  wrote  me  a 
beautiful,  beautiful  letter  when  we  came  away." 

And  so,  late  in  September  the  boy  lieutenant  left  his 
mother's  arms  and,  followed  by  her  prayers  and  tears 
and  blessings,  was  borne  away  westward  to  revisit 
scenes  that  were  once  familiar  as  the  old  barrack  walls 
at  West  Point.  Then  it  required  long  days  of  travel 


FORT    FRAYNE.  63 

over  rough  mountain  roads  to  reach  the  railway  far 
south  of  the  Medicine  Bow.  Now  the  swift  express 
train  landed  him  at  the  station  of  the  frontier  town 
that  had  grown  up  on  the  site  of  the  prairie  dog  village 
he  and  his  pony  had  often  "stampeded"  in  the  old  days. 
Here  at  the  station,  come  to  meet  the  son  of  their  old 
commander,  ignoring  the  fact  that  the  newcomer  was 
but  the  plebe  lieutenant  of  the  Twelfth,  were  the 
ruddy-faced  old  colonel  and  Will's  own  troop  leader, 
Captain  Leale,  both  heartily,  cordially  bidding  him 
welcome,  and  commenting  not  a  little  on  his  stalwart 
build  and  trying  hard  not  to  refer  to  the  very  downy 
mustache  that  adorned  his  boyish  lip.  And  other 
and  younger  officers  were  there  to  welcome  the  lad  to 
his  new  station,  and  huge  was  Will's  comfort  when 
he  caught  sight  of  Sergeant  Stein,  the  veteran  standard- 
bearer  of  the  regiment,  and  that  superbly  punctilious 
old  soldier  straightened  up  like  a  Norway  pine  and 
saluted  with  rigid  precision  and  hoped  the  lieutenant 
Avas  well  and  his  lady  mother  and  Miss  Farrar. 
"  There's  nothing, "  thought  Will,  "like  the  discipline 
of  the  old  regiment,  after  all,"  as  the  orderly  came 
to  ask  for  the  checks  for  the  lieutenant's  baggage, 
and  all  went  well  until  the  luckless  moment  when  the 
colonel  and  Leale,  with  some  of  the  elders,  turned 
aside  to  look  at  a  batch  of  recruits  sent  by  the  same 
train,  and  Farrar,  chatting  with  some  of  his  fellow- 
youngsters,  was  stowing  his  bags  in  the  waiting  am 
bulance,  and  there  in  the  driver  Will  recognized 
Saddler  Donovan's  freckle-faced  Mickey,  with  whom 
he  had  had  many  a  hunt  for  rabbits  in  the  old,  old 


64  FOKT    FRAYISTE. 

days,  and  then  an  unctuous,  caressing  Irish  voice 
fairly  blubbered  out:  "Hivensaveus  if  it  isn't  really 
Masther  Will!"  and  there,  corporal's  chevrons  on  his 
brawny  arms,  Avas  old  Terry  Rorkc,  looking  wild  to 
embrace  him,  and  even  as  Will,  half  ashamed  of  his 
own  shyness,  was  shaking  hands  with  this  faithful 
old  retainer  of  his  father's  household  in  years  gone 
by,  the  squad  of  recruits  came  marching  past.  The 
third  man  from  the  front,  heavily  bearded,  with  a 
bloated,  ill-groomed  face  and  restlessly  glancing 
eyes,  gave  a  quick,  furtive  look  at  the  new  lieutenant 
as  he  passed,  then  stumbled  and  plunged  forward 
against  his  file  leader.  The  squad  was  thrown  into 
momentary  disarray.  The  sergeant,  angered  at  the 
mishap  at  such  a  time,  strode  quickly  up  to  the 
offender  and  savagely  muttered:  "Keep  your  eyes 
to  the  front,  Graice,  and  you  won't  be  stumbling  up 
decent  men's  backs,"  and  the  little  detachment  went 
briskly  on. 

"I  thought  I'd  seen  that  man  before,"  said  Leale 
an  instant  later,  "and  now  I  know  it — and  I  know 
where." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  winter  came  on  early  at  old  Fort  Frayne. 
Even  as  early  as  mid-October  the  ice  was  forming  in 
the  shallow  pools  along  the  Platte,  and  that  eccentric 
stream  itself  had  dwindled  away  in  volume  until  it 
seemed  but  the  ghost  of  its  former  self.  Raging 
and  unfordable  in  June,  swollen  by  the  melting 
snows  of  the  Colorado  peaks  and  the  torrents  from  the 
Medicine  Bow,  it  spent  its  strength  in  the  arid  heat 
of  a  long  dry  summer,  and  when  autumn  came  was 
mild  as  a  mill  stream  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
and  fordable  in  a  dozen  places  within  rifle  shot  of 
the  post.  Many  a  time  did  old  Fenton  wish  it  wasn't. 
Frayne's  reservation  was  big  and  generous,  but,  un 
luckily,  it  never  extended  across  the  river.  Squatters, 
smugglers  and  sharpers  could  not  intrude  upon  its 
guarded  limits  along  the  southern  shore,  and  the 
nearest  groggery — that  inevitable  accompaniment  of 
the  westward  march  of  civilization — was  a  long  two 
miles  away  down  the  right  bank,  but  only  a  pistol 
shot  across  the  stream. 

In  his  day  Farrar  had  waged  war  against  the  rum- 
sellers  on  the  north  shore  and  won,  because  then 
there  were  only  soldiers  and  settlers  and  no  lawyers 
— outside  the  guardhouse — within  ninety  miles  of 
the  post.  But  with  the  tide  of  civilization  came 
more  settlers,  and  a  cattle  town,  and  lawyers  in  abun 
dance,  and  with  their  coming  the  question  at  issue 

65 


66  FORT   FRAYNE. 

became  no  longer  that  of  abstract  right  or  wrong, 
but  how  a  jury  would  decide  it;  and  a  frontier  jury 
always  decides  in  favor  of  the  squatter  and  against 
the  soldier.  Fenton  strove  to  take  pattern  after 
Farrar  and  very  nearly  succeeded  in  landing  himself 
in  jail,  as  the  outraged  vendor  went  down  to  Lara- 
mie,  hired  lawyers  there,  swore  out  warrants  of 
assault  and  appealed  to  his  countrymen.  The  fact 
that  no  less  than  four  of  the  Twelfth  within  six  months 
had  died  with  their  boots  on,  victims  of  the  ready 
knives  or  revolvers  of  the  squatters  across  the  stream, 
had  no  bearing  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  Fenton  had 
warned  the  divekeeper  a  dozen  times  to  no  purpose, 
but  when  finally  Sergeant  Hannifin  was  set  upon  and 
murdered  there  one  fine  April  evening  within  easy 
range  and  almost  within  hearing  of  his  comrades  at 
Fray  ne,  Fenton  broke  loose  and  said  impetuous  things, 
which  reached  the  ears  of  his  men,  who  went  and  did 
things  equally  impetuous,  to  the  demolition  of  the 
"  shack"  and  the  destruction  of  its  stock  of  spirits  and 
gambling  paraphernalia,  and  it  was  proved  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  jury  that  Fenton  did  not  interpose 
to  stop  the  row  until  it  had  burned  itself  and  the 
"shack"  inside  out.  The  people  rallied  to  the  sup 
port  of  the  saloonkeeper — he,  at  least,  was  a  man  and 
a  brother,  a  voter,  and,  when  he  couldn't  lie  out  of  it, 
a  taxpayer.  The  officers  at  Frayne,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  the  opinion  of  the  citizens  of  that  section  of 
Wyoming,  were  none  of  the  four,  and  Bunko  Jim's 
new  resort  across  the  Platte  was  a  big  improvement 
in  point  of  size,  though  not  in  stock  or  sanctity,  over 


FORT    FRAYXE.  67 

its  predecessor.  Jim  ran  a  ferryboat  for  the  benefit 
of  customers  from  the  fort.  It  was  forbidden  to  land 
on  the  reservation,  but  did  so,  nevertheless,  when 
the  sentry  on  the  bluff  couldn't  see,  and  sometimes, 
it  must  be  owned,  when  he  could.  The  boat  was 
used  when  the  water  was  high,  the  fords  when  it  was 
low,  and  the  ice  when  it  was  fro/en,  and  it  was  a 
curious  thing  in  winter  to  see  how  quickly  the  new- 
fallen  snow  would  be  seamed  with  paths  leading  by 
devious  routes  from  the  barracks  to  the  shore  and 
then  across  the  ice-bound  pools  straight  to  Bunko 
Jim's.  Bowing,  as  became  the  soldier  of  the  repub 
lic,  to  the  supremacy  of  the  civil  law,  Fenton  swal 
lowed  the  lesson,  though  he  didn't  the  whiskey,  but 
Jim  had  his  full  share  of  customers  from  the  fort, 
and  the  greatest  of  these,  it  soon  transpired,  was  the 
big  recruit  speedily  known  throughout  the  command 
as  "Tough  Tom"  Graice. 

Joining  the  regiment  at  the  end  of  September,  it 
was  less  than  a  month  before  he  was  as  well,  though 
not  as  favorably,  known  as  the  sergeant-major. 
There  is  more  than  one  way  of  being  conspicuous  in 
the  military  service,  and  Graice  had  chosen  the  worst. 
Even  the  recruits  who  came  with  him  from  the  depot, 
the  last  lot  to  be  shipped  from  that  once-crowded 
garner  of  "food  for  powder,"  could  tell  nothing  of 
his  antecedents,  though  they  were  full  of  gruesome 
details  of  his  doings  since  enlistment.  He  was  an  ex 
pert  at  cards  and  billiards,  said  they — for  they  had 
found  it  out  to  their  sorrow — and  a  demon  when 
aroused  by  drink.  Twice  in  drunken  rage  he  had 


68  FORT   FRAYNE. 

assaulted  comparatively  inoffensive  men,  and  only  the 
prompt  and  forcible  intervention  of  comrades  had 
prevented  murder  on  the  spot,  while  the  traditional 
habit  of  the  soldier  of  telling  no  tales  had  saved  him 
from  richly  merited  punishment.  Within  the  month 
of  his  arrival  Graice  had  made  giant  strides  to  noto 
riety.  He  was  a  powerful  fellow,  with  fine  command 
of  language  and  an  education  far  superior  to  that  of 
the  general  run  of  non-commissioned  officers,  and  it 
was  among  the  younger  set  of  these  he  first  achieved 
a  certain  standing.  Professing  to  hold  himself  above 
the  private  soldier,  proving  himself  an  excellent  rider 
and  an  expert  in  drill  with  carbine  or  sabre,  he  never 
theless  declared  it  was  his  first  enlistment  and  gave  it 
to  be  understood  that  a  difficulty  with  the  sheriff, 
who  sought  to  arrest  him,  had  been  the  means  of 
bringing  him  to  the  temporary  refuge  of  the  ranks. 
For  the  first  few  weeks,  too,  he  drank  but  little,  and 
wearing  his  uniform  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  one 
long  accustomed  to  the  buttons,  and  being  erect  and 
athletic  in  biiild,  he  presented  a  very  creditable  ap 
pearance.  The  bloated,  bloodshot  look  he  wore  on 
his  arrival,  the  result  of  much  surreptitious  whiskey  en 
route,  passed  somewhat  away  and  it  was  only  when 
one  studied  his  face  that  the  traces  of  intemperance, 
added  to  the  sullen  brows,  and  shifting,  restless  eyes, 
banished  the  claim  to  good  looks  that  were  at  first 
accorded  him.  From  the  first,  however,  the  old 
sergeants  and  such  veterans  among  the  corporals  as 
Terry  Rorke,  looked  askance  at  Trooper  Graice. 
"  Another  guardhouse  lawyer,"  said  the  first  sergeant 


FORT    FRAYNE.  6& 

of  Leale's  troop,  as  he  disgustedly  received  the  ad 
jutant's  notification  of  Graice's  assignment.  "Another 
wan  of  thim  jail  birds  like  Mr.  American  Blood,  the 
newspaper  pet,"  said  Rorke,  in  high  disdain.  "  We'll 
have  a  circus  with  him,  too,  as  they  had  in  the 
Eleventh,  or  I'm  a  Jew.  Where  have  I  seen  that 
sweet  mug  of  him  before?"  he  added,  reflectively, 
as  he  watched  the  new-comer  surlily  scrubbing  at  his 
kit,  and  the  new-comer,  glancing  sideways  at  the 
Irish  corporal,  seemed  to  read  his  thoughts,  although 
too  far  a*,ray  to  hear  his  muttered  words.  It  was 
plain  to  every  man  in  "  C  "  troop  that  there  was  apt  to 
be  no  love  lost  between  Terence  Rorke  and  ' '  Tommy 
the  Tough." 

And  there  was  another  still  who  wrore  the  simple 
dress  of  a  private  soldier,  whose  eyes,  black,  piercing 
and  full  of  expression,  wrere  constantly  following  that 
new  recruit,  and  that  wTas  the  Sioux  Indian,  Crow 
Knife,  a  youth  barely  nineteen  years  of  age.  He  had 
been  a  boy  scout  before  the  days  of  the  ghost  dance 
craze.  A  valued  and  trusted  ally  of  the  white  soldiers, 
he  had  borne  dispatches  up  to  the  very  moment  when 
Kill  Eagle's  mad-brained  ultimatum  drove  his  band 
into  revolt  and  launched  them  on  the  warpath.  With 
them  went  Crow  Knife's  father  and  mother,  and  the 
boy  rode  wildly  in  pursuit.  He  was  with  them,  striv 
ing  to  induce  his  mother  to  abandon  the  village,  when 
the  warriors  made  their  descent  on  the  ranches  of  the 
Dry  Fork,  and  later,  when  Farrar's  fierce  attack  burst 
upon  them  like  a  thunderbolt  through  the  snow- 
clouds.  Seizing  his  mother  in  his  arms,  the  boy  had 


70  FORT    FRAYNE. 

shielded  and  saved  her  when  Leale's  vengeful  men 
rushed  upon  the  nearest  Indians,  when  unquestion 
ably,  yet  unavoidably,  some  squaws  received  their 
death  wound  in  the  furious  fight  that  followed  Far- 
rar's  assassination.  Recognized  and  rescued  by  his 
former  friends,  Crow  Knife  went  back  to  Frayne 
when  the  brief  but  bloody  campaign  was  ended,  and 
then  was  sent  to  the  Indian  school  at  Carlisle.  Re 
turning  in  the  course  of  three  years,  he  had  been  en 
listed  in  what  was  left  of  the  Indian  troop  of  the 
Twelfth,  and  was  one  of  the  few  of  his  tribe  who 
really  made  a  success  of  soldiering.  By  the  autumn 
of  this  eventful  year  Crow  Knife's  comrades  were 
rapidly  being  discharged  and  returning  to  their 
blankets  and  lodge  life  at  the  reservation,  or  hanging 
about  the  squalid  cattle  town  across  the  river.  Crow 
Knife,  sticking  to  his  cavalry  duty  and  showing  un 
looked-for  devotion  to  his  officers,  was  regarded  by 
the  Twelfth  as  an  exceptional  case,  and  was  made 
much  of  accordingly. 

"AVhat  do  you  think  of  that  fellow,  Crow?" 
asked  Corporal  Rorke  one  day  as  he  watched  the  ex 
pression  in  the  Indian's  face.  "  You  don't  like  him 
any  more  than  I  do.  What's  the  reason?" 

"There  is  a  saying  among  my  people,"  was  the 
answer,  in  the  slow,  measured  tones  of  one  who 
thought  in  another  tongue,  "  eyes  that  cannot  meet 
eyes  guide  hands  that  strike  foul.  He-that-stabs-in- 
the-darkis  the  name  we  give  such  as  that  man." 

"D'ye  know  him,  Crow?  Did  ye  never  see  him?" 
persisted  Terry.  ' '  Ever  since  the  day  he  came  the 


FORT    FRAYXE.  Tl 

captain  has  had  his  eye  on  him,  and  so  have  you,  and 
so  have  I.  I  can't  ask  the  captain,  but  I  can  you. 
Where  have  you  seen  him  before?" 

But  Crow  Knife  shook  his  head.  "I  cannot  re 
member  his  face.  It  is  his  back  I  seem  to  know.  Mj 
people  say  that  way  they  see  their  enemies." 

And  so  Rorke  could  find  no  satisfactory  solution 
of  the  ever-vexing  question.  Twice  or  thrice  he 
accosted  Graice  and  strove  to  draw  him  into  talk, 
but  the  new-comer  seemed  to  shut  up  like  an  oyster 
in  the  presence  of  the  Irish  corporal,  a  great  contrast 
to  the  joviality  he  displayed  when  soliciting  com 
rades  to  take  a  hand  at  cards.  The  recruits  had 
hardly  any  money  left.  Graice  had  won  what  little 
there  was  on  the  way  to  Frayne,  and  now  he  had 
wormed  his  way  into  the  gambling  set  that  is  apt  to 
be  found  in  every  fort — all  comers  who  have  money 
being  welcome — and  for  a  few  weeks  fortune  seemed 
to  smile  upon  the  neophyte.  He  knew,  he  protested, 
very  little  of  any  game,  but  played  for  fellowship 
and  fun.  Then  he  kept  sober  when  others  drank, 
and  so  won,  and  then  came  accusations  of  foul  play 
and  a  row,  and  the  barracks  game  was  broken  up, 
only  to  be  resumed  at  night  in  the  resort  across  the 
Platte,  and  there  whiskey  was  plenty,  and  so  were  the 
players,  and  there  Graice  began  to  lapse  into  intem 
perate  ways,  and  by  the  time  the  long,  long  nights  of 
December  came,  his  reputation  as  a  "tough"  was 
established  throughout  the  garrison.  All  but  three 
or  four  of  the  most  dissolute  members  of  the  com 
mand  had  cut  loose  from  him  entirely,  a  matter  he 


72  FORT   FKAYNE. 

regretted  only  because  pay  day  was  at  hand — the 
soldiers  would  then  have  money  in  plenty  for  a  few 
short,  feverish  hours.  The  squatters  and  settlers 
had  none  until  the  soldiers  were  "strapped"  and  so 
Graice  and  three  or  four  Ishmaelites  like  unto  him 
self  were  left  to  the  concentration  of  brutality  to  be 
found  in  one  another's  society. 

The  winter,  as  has  been  said,  set  in  early,  and 
when  December  came  duties  were  few  and  hours  for 
sleep  and  recreation  were  many.  Time  was  hanging 
heavily  on  the  hands  of  those  whose  brains  were 
empty  among  the  households  along  officers'  row  and 
in  the  quarters  of  the  married  soldiers, although  Christ 
mas  was  not  far  away.  Garrison  balls  were  all  the  go 
among  the  rank  and  file.  Hops  were  frequent 
among  the  officers  and  ladies,  and,  while  other 
soldier  swains  found  bliss  and  enjoyment  in  the 
society  of  the  half  dozen  maidens  wintering  at  the 
fort— guests  and  relatives  of  some  of  the  officers' 
families — one  inconsolable  fellow  watched  and  waited, 
watched  and  waited,  with  feverish  impatience  for 
the  coming  of  a  certain  train  on  a  certain  day,  for 
the  coming  of  mother  and  sister  to  his  own  roof, 
revisiting  as  inmates  of  the  quarters  of  the  junior 
second  lieutenant  the  post  where  three  years  gone  by 
they  occupied  the  house  of  the  commanding  officer. 
But  boy  lieutenants  do  not  consume  with  feverish 
longing  for  the  coming  of  blood  relations.  Proud 
and  glad  as  was  Will  Farrar  at  the  idea  of  welcoming 
the  "  queen  mother"  and  sweet  sister  Ellis  to  his  roof, 
it  must  be  owned  that  the  thrill  of  his  impatience 


FORT    FRAYNE.  73 

was  all  due  to  the  fact  that  the  same  train  was  to 
bring  Miss  Kitty  Ormsby  to  become  for  the  time 
being  an  inmate  of  the  army  home  now  presided  over 
by  loquacious  Aunt  Lucretia. 

And  Will  Farrar  was  not  the  only  man  in  this  big, 
bustling  garrison  to  look  forward  to  this  coming  with 
strange  and  sweet  emotion.  There  are  natures  upon 
which  the  first  strong,  fervent  love  of  manhood 
leaves  an  impress  indelible  even  when  the  object  of 
that  love  has  passed  out  of  one's  life,  possibly  into 
the  keeping  of  another  and  happier  man.  Aunt 
Lucretia  couldn't  understand  why  on  earth  her 
brother,  the  colonel,  should  be  so  fussy  and  excited 
about  Kitty  Ormsby's  coming.  Why  on  earth 
should  he  insist  on  sending  away  to  Cheyenne  for  new 
carpets,  curtains,  furniture,  and  all  manner  of 
contraptions,  to  say  nothing  of  swell  new  uniforms 
from  New  York,  all  because  that  precious  little  chit 
of  a  niece  was  coming  to  spend  a  month  or  so  at 
Frayne.  Lucretia  thought  it  was  ridiculous.  Of 
course,  it  was  her  brother's  own  affair.  He  was  a 
well-to-do  bachelor,  with  no  one  but  her  to  take  care 
of,  and  he  could  do  as  he  pleased,  especially  when 
he  pleased  to  insist  on  surprising  her  with  some 
charming  addition  to  her  maidenly  store  of  gowns 
and  furbelows  and  kickshaws.  Really,  the  idea  of 
Kitty's  coming  and  turning  everything  topsyturvy 
in  the  household  didn't  strike  her  as  being  so  inap 
propriate  now  after  all,  for  Aunt  Lou,  whom  Kitty 
had  not  seen  in  years,  was  still  young  and  volatile 
enough  to  feel  the  influence  of  dress  upon  one's 


74  FORT    FRAYNli. 

views  of  life,  and  from  being  actually  incensed  at  the 
initial  excitement  and  preparation,  Lucretia  first 
grew  reconciled,  then,  as  her  own  remembrances 
came  with  the  early  installments  of  goods  and 
chattels,  manifestly  interested,  and  later,  infected 
with  all  her  brother's  marked  enthusiasm,  for  one 
wonderful  day  Lucretia  almost  fainted  with  excite 
ment  and  delight  when  the  colonel  came  over  from 
the  office  wearing  a  face  of  unwonted  perplexity  and 
dismay,  and,  when  the  maiden  asked  the  cause,  her 
virgin  heart  stood  still  an  instant,  then  fluttered 
wildly  at  his  reply. 

"That  blessed  old  day-dreamer  Wayne  is  ordered 
here  for  duty.  Why!  O  Lord!  yes,  I  remember." 

Nearly  twenty  years  before,  when  she  was  but  a  girl 
of  nineteen  and  Wayne  a  lone  subaltern,  there  had 
been  a  long  winter  in  which  life  seemed  to  have  no 
joy  for  either  Wayne  or  Miss  Fenton  save  in  the 
hours  spent  in  each  other's  society.  Every  one  at 
Leavenworth  vowed  they  must  be  engaged.  Indeed, 
Lucretia  believed  it  must  come  any  day,  but  the 
days  dragged  on,  Wayne  came  ever,  but  the  fateful 
words  were  never  spoken  up  to  the  moment  when  he 
was  ruthlessly  hurried  away  to  bear  his  part  on  a 
frontier  campaign,  and  rarely,  and  then  only  for  a 
moment  or  two,  had  they  ever  met  again.  Wayne 
was  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  army,  the  best  fellow 
that  ever  lived  in  almost  every  way,  said  almost 
everyone  who  knew  him,  and  yet  at  once  a  trial  and 
a  delight.  Without  exception,  he  was  the  most 
absent-minded,  dreamy  man  in  all  the  service  and 


FORT    FBAYNE.  75 

the  stories  of  his  absurdities  were  innumerable.  It 
was  Wayne  who  asked  Miss  Sanford  to  the  german 
at  Leavemvorth  and  was  found  playing  whist  at  the 
general's  at  ten  o'clock.  It  was  Wayne  who  kept 
dinner  waiting  for  his  arrival  at  the  same  general's 
two  evenings  later  and  was  found  by  the  orderly  on 
his  way  to  town  to  call  at  the  rector's.  It  was 
Wayne  who  appeared  at  a  garrison  hop  one  evening  in 
cavalry  trousers  and  a  black  "claw-hammer."  Wayne 
who  implored  his  brother  officers  to  keep  him  con 
stantly  reminded  that  it  was  Mrs.  Burton  now  and 
not  Mrs.  Hallet,  as  he  had  known  her  for  years,  upon 
whom  they  were  about  to  call,  and  who,  after 
infinite  mental  labor,  had  well-nigh  finished  the 
interview  without  a  break,  only  to  dash  it  all  by 
precipitating  himself  upon  the  new  possessor  of  these 
charms  and  covering  him  with  confusion  by  saying: 
"Hallet,  old  boy,  hearty  congratulations!"  It  was 
Wayne  who  immortalized  himself  at  Royle  Farrar's 
christening  when,  as  was  the  hospitable  way  of  the 
army,  the  officers  and  ladies  were  bidden  to  the 
ceremony  and  caudle,  by  wishing  the  proud  young 
mother  "many  happy  returns."  It  was  Wayne 
who  hung  his  pince-nez  on  his  finger  and  was  seen 
vainly  struggling  to  set  his  seal  ring  on  his  aquiline 
nose,  Wayne  who  gravely  took  his  post  as  captain 
commanding  battalion  parade  one  evening  with  his 
helmet  wrong  side  foremost  and  without  his  sabre. 
It  was  Wayne  who,  as  senior  officer  present,  had  to 
toast  the  mother  of  the  bride  at  a  gorgeous  wedding 
breakfast  on  a  famous  occasion  and  plumped  down  in 


76  FOET   FEAYNE. 

this  sea  expectant  of  joyous  applause  only  to  be  con 
founded  by  an  awful  silence,  followed  an  instant 
later  by  an  outburst  of  irresistible,  uncontrollable, 
almost  hysterical  laughter,  led  by  that  blessed  matron 
herself,  for  poor  Wayne  had  wound  up  his  halting, 
stumbling  incoherencies  with  the  astounding  senti 
ment,  "And  I  am  sure  I  can  wish  the  lovely  bride 
no  future  more — more — delightful  than  that  she  may 
grow  ever  more — more  beautiful  than  her  beautiful 
mother — and — and — and  m-more — more — er — virtu 
ous." 

No  wonder  Fenton,  with  all  his  liking  for  the  man, 
felt  appalled  at  the  idea  of  having  for  second  in 
command  an  officer  just  as  apt  to  get  things  in 
extricably  mixed  on  drill  as  he  was  in  daily  life. 
No  one  could  ever  count  on  Wayne's  getting  a  thing 
straight.  He  was  absurdity  itself,  as  has  been  said, 
and  yet  so  penitent,  so  distressed  when  any  one  be 
came  involved  through  his  propensities  as  actually 
to  win  the  affection  of  his  very  victims.  He  was 
the  soul  of  truth  and  honor  and  knightly  bravery.  He 
woke  up  under  tire  to  an  enthusiasm  that  was  grand. 
He  was  generous,  tolerant,  kind  as  kind  could  be, 
and,  but  for  this  one  trait,  as  reliable  and  thorough  a 
friend  as  man  could  ask.  But  what  could  a  woman 
do  with  a  lover  like  that?  And,  all  of  a  sudden, 
Colonel  Fenton  had  recalled  the  almost  forgotten 
episode  of  Lou's  early  romance,  and  wondered  what 
new  complication  might  not  now  arise.  Verily, 
it  promised  lively  developments  for  old  Fort 
Frayne,  did  this  bright  and  bracing  December, 


FORT    FRAYNE.  77 

for,  full  a  fortnight  before  the  sacred  anniversary, 
the  Farrars  were  to  arrive — the  Farrars,  with  the 
gentle  invalid's  now  devoted  and  inseparable  com 
panion,  Helen  Daunton,  and  bachelor  Will  had 
turned  his  whole  little  house  into  a  bower  for  the 
women  folks,  while  he,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  took  a 
bunk  in  Billy's  camp  "  next  door.  And  Kitty  was 
to  journey  with  them,  and  Will  was  to  have  leave  to 
go  as  far  east  as  Omaha  to  meet  them,  for  they  were 
to  travel  to  that  point  unescorted,  Jack  Ormsby, 
whom  Will  had  looked  upon  as  certain  to  be  on 
hand,  being  still  abroad,  and  probably  no  one  but 
Ellis  knew  why.  At  the  very  time  when,  no  longer 
an  employe  now,  but  his  own  master  and  a  suc 
cessful,  driving,  thriving  business  man,  Jack  Ormsby 
thought  he  had  some  chance  of  being  looked  upon  as 
a  suitable  suitor,  at  least  from  the  point  of  view  of 
worldly  goods,  he  found  the  lady  of  his  devoted 
love  nervous,  embarrassed,  and  anything  but  kind. 
Ever  since  her  father's  death  she  had  seemed  to  like 
him  well.  She  had  spoken  to  him  of  the  prospect 
of  his  being  with  them  when  they  went  to  the  sea 
shore  the  summer  of  Will's  graduation,  and  he  had 
intended  to  go  and  join  them  when  they  returned 
from  the  mountains,  where  they  spent  July,  but  first 
there  was  the  week  of  camp  with  his  beloved 
Seventh,  and  then,  just  as  he  was  hoping  to  run 
down  the  Jersey  shore  for  a  lovely  Sunday  by  her 
side,  there  came  a  summons  to  arms,  and  every  man  of 
Jack's  company  answered  the  call,  and  the  Seventh, 
in  fuller  ranks  even  than  it  appeared  in  camp,  went 


78  PORT    FRAYNE. 

striding  away  to  face  the  thugs  and  toughs  and 
rioters  of  greater  Gotham,  and  there  was  a  week  of 
trying,  exasperating  duty,  and  then  a  fortnight  of 
invalidism  as  a  result;  for  Sergeant  Ormsby  got  an 
ugly  gash  as  his  share  of  the  casualties  from  brick 
bats,  and  erysipelas  set  in.  Not  until  late  Septem 
ber  did  he  see  Ellis  again,  just  after  Will  had  gone, 
and  then  his  doctor  advised  a  sea  voyage,  for  he 
could  not  understand  his  patient's  unfavorable  symp 
toms,  and  then  followed  a  short  sojourn  abroad. 
Wounded  sorely  in  his  honest  heart,  Ormsby  went, 
and  when  he  returned  to  Gotham  the  Farrars  were 
gone  to  Frayne. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FOR  several  days  Trooper  Graice  had  been  in  the 
guardhouse.  Absent  from  check  roll  call,  from  his 
quarters  over  night,  and  from  reveille,  he  had 
turned  up  at  sick  call  with  a  battered  visage  and 
all  the  ear-marks  of  a  drunken  row.  He  had  been 
hauled  up  before  a  summary  court,  Major  Wayne's 
first  duty  after  reporting  at  the  post,  and  received 
sentence  of  fine  with  a  scowling  face  and  no  word  of 
plea  for  clemency  or  promise  of  betterment.  What 
cared  he  for  fines?  He  could  win  more  in  a  night 
than  they  could  stop  in  a  month.  He  was  out  again 
doing  penance  with  the  police  cart  about  the  post 
the  day  the  available  transportation  came  driving 
back  from  the  railway  with  a  load  of  precious  freight, 
and  Trooper  Graice,  splitting  wood  in  the  major's 
back  yard,  dropped  the  axe  with  a  savage  oath  and 
turned  a  sickly  yellow  for  one  minute  when  he  heard 
the  busy  tongues  of  the  domestics  next  door  pro 
claiming  the  arrival  of  Lieutenant  Farrar's  mother  and 
sister.  The  sentry  on  duty  over  prisoners  bade  him 
stop  his  swearing  and  get  to  work  again,  for  Captain 
Leale  was  passing  rapidly  up  the  walk  in  front,  and 
Leale  was  a  man  whose  eyes  were  ever  about  him  and 
whose  ears  seemed  never  to  lose  a  sound,  but  the 
captain  merely  glanced  keenly  at  the  soldier  with  his 
brace  of  malcontents  and  hurried  on.  It  was  he  who 
opened  the  door  of  the  stanch  Concord  and  assisted 

79 


80  FORT    FRAYNE. 

the  ladies  to  alight — Mrs.  Farrar,  Ellis,  and  a 
stranger,  a  gentlewoman,  evidently,  yet  one  who 
seemed  to  shrink  from  accepting  aid  or  attention, 
and  whose  beautiful  blue  eyes  ever  followed  Mrs. 
Farrar.  "My  friend,  Mrs.  Daunton,  my  older 
friend,  Captain  Leale,  of  whom  you  have  heard  so 
much,"  were  the  words  in  which  these  two  were 
made  known  to  each  other,  while  Will  and  the 
servants  were  tumbling  out  bags  and  rugs  and  wraps, 
even  as  another  and  similar  vehicle  was  being  un 
loaded  in  front  of  the  colonel's.  Leale  dined  en 
famille  at  the  Farrar's  that  evening,  Will  proudly 
presiding,  as  became  the  head  of  the  house  and  the 
foot  of  the  table,  and  beaming  upon  his  mother,  who 
sat  facing  him  and  rejoicing  in  his  happiness.  Very 
bright  and  cozy  were  the  prettily-furnished  quarters, 
for,  with  boundless  enthusiasm,  the  ladies  of  the 
garrison  had  aided  the  young  gentleman  in  making 
them  attractive  against  the  coming  of  the  wife  of 
their  honored  old  colonel  and  his  fair  daughter,  and 
right  after  dinner  the  visitors  began  to  arrive,  wel 
coming,  army  fashion,  the  old  friends  long  endeared 
to  all  the  other  members  of  the  garrison,  men  and 
women  both;  and,  while  Mrs.  Farrar  and  Ellis  had 
hosts  of  questions  to  ask  and  answer,  Captain  Leale 
found  himself  interested  in  entertaining  the  stranger, 
to  whom  all  this  blithe  and  cheery  intercourse,  all 
the  cordial,  hospitable,  homelike  army  ways,  were 
so  odd  and  new.  It  was  tattoo  when  he  rose  to 
leave,  and  met  poor  Will  without — Will,  who  had 
twice  gone  up  to  Fenton's  hoping  to  steal  a  word 


FORT    FfiAYXE.  81 

or  two  with  Kitty,  only  to  find  that  such  portion  of 
post  society  as  was  not  gathered  about  his  mother 
and  sister  was  congregated  at  the  colonel's — and 
then,  fatigued  by  the  journey,  and  showing  plainly 
the  effect  of  the  excitement  of  her  arrival,  Mrs. 
Farrar  was  induced  to  seek  her  room,  while  Ellis  re 
mained  in  the  parlor  to  chat  with  others  still  coming 
in  to  bid  them  welcome  home,  and  not  until  long 
after  ten  were  the  lights  turned  down  in  No.  5,  and 
not  until  even  later  did  they  gleam  no  longer  from 
the  big  house  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff. 

o  o 

Whatever  trepidation  her  friend  had  felt  as  to  the 
effect  of  this  return  upon  Mrs.  Farrar,  it  was  soon 
evident  that  it  was  groundless.  Even  the  day  on 
which  she  returned  Lucretia's  call  and  was  received 
in  the  familiar  rooms,  once  her  own,  she  controlled 
admirably  every  sign  of  deep  emotion.  She  seemed 
happy  in  being  with  Will,  her  idolized  boy,  and  was 
never  tired  of  watching  him  as  he  strode  or  rode 
away  upon  his  various  duties.  An  admirable  soldier 
was  Will,  as  all  the  officers  admitted,  devoted  to 
his  duties,  full  of  snap,  spirit,  and  enthusiasm,  a 
fine  drill  instructor,  and  teacher  of  the  non-com 
missioned  officers'  school,  yet  ever  handicapped  by 
that  exuberant  boyishness  and  by  the  fact  that  to 
save  their  souls  the  old  soldiers  and  their  families 
seemed  to  find  it  absolutely  impossible  at  first  to  for 
get  him  as  "  Masther  Will."  Many  of  the  old  ser 
geants  and  their  wives  had  come  to  pay  their  re 
spects  to  Mrs.  Farrar,  and  to  talk,  as  she  loved  to  hear 
them  talk,  of  the  colonel  they  loved  so  well  and 


82  FORT    FRAYNE. 

mourned  so  loyally.  One  and  all  they  rejoiced  in  say 
ing  everything  that  soldier  speech  could  frame  in  praise 
of  their  new  lieutenant,  their  boy  officer,  their  colonel's 
soldierly  son,  even  while  struggling  against  the  im 
pulse  that  ever  possessed  them  to  refer  to  him  as 
Masther  Will,  or,  as  he  hated  still  more  to  be  called 
Master  Willie.  Little  by  little  the  army  punctilio 
had  prevailed,  and  most  of  the  men  had  learned  to 
refer  to  him  respectfully  as  "  the  lieutenant,"  and 
to  brace  up  and  salute  him  with  all  the  gravity  and 
precision  lavished  on  Fenton  or  Leale.  Even  the 
Irish  trumpeter,  with  whom  he  had  ridden  races  and 
played  hookey,  and  gotten  into  all  manner  of  mis 
chief  about  the  post  in  by-gone  days — McQuirk,  at 
first  could  not  suppress  the  affable  grin  that  over 
spread  his  freckled  "  mug  "  at  sight  of  his  whilom 
playmate  as  a  full-fledged  officer,  bearing  the  presi 
dent's  commission.  But  Mac  was  savagely  roasted 
by  Sergeant  Stein  and  other  elders,  and  did  his  best  to 
amend.  It  was  Terry  Rorke  that  was  incorrigible. 
Time  and  again  he  broke  the  rules  he  laid  down  for 
himself,  and,  as  Terry  had  been  the  household 
"  striker  "  in  the  days  when  it  was  Captain  Farrar, 
and  they  first  lived  at  Frayne,  he  found  especial 
favor  in  the  gentle  eyes  of  the  widowed  mother,  and 
was  encouraged  to  come  and  see  her,  for  in  all  that 
crowded  garrison  he  alone  could  recall  her  first-born, 
her  handsome,  daring,  dashing  Royle,  when  he  was 
a  boy  of  fourteen.  To  all  the  world  he  was  an  out 
cast,  but  the  mother's  heart  had  never  yet  been  able 
to  quench  the  flame  of  love  that,  burning  like  a 


FORT    FRAYNE.  83 

beacon  in  her  pure  and  prayerful  heart,  seemed  ever 
beckoning  to  him  to  return.  Yes,  Terry  Rorke  had 
never  forgotten  "  Masther  Royle,"  and  he  alone 
could  come  and  talk  with  her  of  the  son,  when  all 
the  rest  of  the  world  would  only  too  gladly  believe 
him  dead  and  forgotten. 

Thrice  had  Will,  bustling  into  the  hallway,  as  was 
his  custom,  without  knock  or  ring,  come  suddenly 
upon  his  mother  in  conference  with  his  old  friend 
and  hers,  and  Rorke  had  sprung  to  attention  and 
stood  like  a  statue  and  had  striven  to  say  "the  lieu 
tenant,"  and  not  "Masther  Will,"  in  his  reference  to 
his  officer,  but  Will  plainly  showed  he  thought  this 
frequent  coming  an  imposition.  "Mother,  dear," 
said  he  one  day,  "if  old  Rorke  is  annoying  you  by 
coming  so  often,  I  can  give  him  a  gentle  hint." 

"Annoying?  Why,  Willy,  dear,  I  love  to  talk 
with  him.  He  was  the  most  faithful,  devoted  creat 
ure  we  ever  knew.  All  through  your  boyhood  he 
watched  over  you,  and  he  was  almost  the  only  friend 
your  poor  brother  seemed  to  have." 

"I  appreciate  all  that,  mother,"  said  Will,  tug 
ging  uneasily  at  his  budding  mustache,  "at  least,  I 
try  to,  but  all  the  same,  you  know,  it  isn't  the  thing. 
Of  course,  Rorke  never  presumes  exactly,  I  under 
stand  that,  and  he  only  comes  because  you  bid  him, 
and  then  it  is  only  to  the  back  door  ami  all  that,  but 
still  it's  the  effect  of  the  thing  on  the  other  men,  and 
it's  time  he  was  learning  to  understand  I'm  decidedly 
no  lonirer  Master  Will." 


84  FORT    FRAYNE. 

Ah!  there  was  the  rub.  Two  days  before  in  the 
presence  of  Will's  fair  little  lady  love,  had  one  of 
Rorke's  lapses  occurred,  and  the  lieutenant  had  been 
Masther  Willed  and  had  reddened  to  the  roots  of  his 
hair,  seeing  which,  Kitty  Ormsby,  as  determined  a 
tease  as  ever  lived,  had  taken  to  calling  him  "Mas 
ther  Will"  on  her  own  account,  and  thunderstorms 
were  imminent.  There  were  other  fellows,  present 
able  fellows,  in  the  garrison  who  were  quick  to  feel 
the  fascination  of  this  charming  little  niece  of  Fen- 
ton's,  and  just  the  moment  Will  showed  a  disposi 
tion  to  sulk  she  showered  smiles  and  sunshine  on 
the  first  subaltern  to  appear,  and  thereby  di-ove  Will 
nearly  rabid.  Had  his  comrades  ventured  to  dub 
him  "Masther  Will"  there  would  have  been  a  row. 
Had  any  of  the  other  belles  of  the  garrison  so  trans 
gressed  he  would  have  turned  his  back  upon  her  then 
and  there,  and  so  elegant  a  dancer  and  reputably 
wealthy  a  young  officer  was  not  to  be  offended,  even 
before  Kitty  came.  But  Kit  could  and  did  torment 
him  without  mercy,  and  without  fear  of  consequences, 
and,  before  she  had  been  at  Frayne  a  week,  was  mak 
ing  life  a  burden  for  the  fellow  who  had  prayed  for 
her  coming  as  its  sweetest  blessing. 

And  so,  like  the  big  outside  world,  the  little  com 
munity  of  Fort  Frayne  was  living  its  life  of  hopes 
and  fears,  smiles  aud  tears,  love  and  jealousy  and 
hate,  while  Kitty  had  speedily  made  herself  com 
pletely  at  home,  and  was  tyrannizing  over  everybody 
at  the  colonel's  as  well  as  over  Will,  and  tormenting 
Aunt  Lucretia  by  making  eyes  at  Major  Wayne,  who 


FORT    FRAYNE.  85 

never  saw  them,  while  Wayne  had  got  to  drifting 
over  to  his  new  colonel's  almost  every  evening,  just 
as  twenty  years  before  he  infested  the  quarters  of  his 
old  friend  at  Leavenworth,  arousing  once  more  all  the 
fluttering  of  that  maidenly  heart,  and,  while  Mrs. 
Farrar,  rejoicing  in  the  evidences  of  love  and  rever 
ence  in  which  her  husband's  name  was  held  on  every 
side,  and  in  the  honors  Will  was  winning  in  his 
chosen  profession,  and  even  while  she  found  comfort 
in  the  fact  that  one  faithful  old  friend  could  recall 
her  wayward  boy  as  he  was  before  dishonor  and  dis 
grace  had  swamped  him,  she  would  have  been  less 
than  a  woman  had  she  been  insensible  to  Fenton's 
repressed  but  unvarying  devotion.  Never  intruding, 
rarely  calling,  he  was  gentleness,  tenderness  personi 
fied  in  every  look  and  word.  It  was  evident  that  all 
these  years  had  never  served  to  banish  her  image 
from  his  heart.  Mourner  though  she  may  be,  can 
woman  live  and  not  rejoice  in  knowing  herself  the 
object  of  so  much  love  on  every  side?  Widowed 
though  even  by  a  few  brief  months,  does  she  resent 
it  that  the  man  lives  who  would  be  glad  to  teach  her 
to  forget?  Life  was  not  without  romance,  then, even 
to  one  who  had  lost  her  best  beloved  not  three  years 
gone  by,  and  for  whose  first  born  she  still  shed  bit 
ter  tears. 

And  to  another  sorrowing  heart,  to  another  gentle 
and  stricken  soul  this  wintry  sojourn  on  the  far 
frontier  was  bringing  strange  emotion.  Day  after 
day  had  Malcolm  Leale  been  a  visitor  at  the  Farrar's. 
Time  after  time  had  he  found  himself  seated  in  con- 


86  FORT   FRAYNE. 

versation  with  the  woman  whose  beauty  of  face  had 
thrilled  him  on  the  day  of  her  coming,  and  whose 
sweet,  subdued  but  gracious  manner  had  charmed 
him  more  and  more.  First  to  notice  his  marked 
preference  for  Helen  Daunton's  society,  was  Ellis 
Farrar,  who  noted  it  with  mixed  emotions,  with  an 
interest  of  which  she  felt  ashamed,  and  which  she 
strove  to  repress.  For  months  she  had  been  strug 
gling  against  herself  or  rather  against  some  strange 
distemper  that  was  not  herself,  for  the  pang  of  jeal 
ousy  with  which  the  girl  had  marked  her  mother's 
dependence  upon  Mrs.  Daunton  when  Ellis  returned 
from  school,  had  deepened  and  taken  root  early  that 
graduation  summer.  Her  jealousy  had  been  doubled 
by  an  event  that  occurred  shortly  after  her  brother's 
last  parade.  Mrs.  Daunton  had  not  gone  with  them 
to  the  Point, — Craney's  was  crowded  in  June,  and 
Mrs.  Farrar  and  Ellis  would  go  nowhere  else.  For 
the  week  they  would  be  there  the  services  and  admin 
istrations  of  a  companion  might,  perhaps,  be  dis 
pensed  with,  and  Helen  remained  at  the  home.  But 
the  evening  after  graduation,  when  they  were  all 
seated  in  the  parlor  of  their  New  York  home,  and 
Will  was  lounging  at  the  window,  delighted  with 
the  life  and  bustle  of  the  city  streets,  and  vaguely 
longing  to  get  out  and  air  his  new  "cits,"  yet  not 
quite  daring  to  go  to  Kitty's  in  them,  because  she 
declared  she'd  never  speak  to  him  except  in  uni 
form,  and  Mrs.  Farrar  was  leaning  back  in  her  easy 
chair,  fanning  herself  slowly,  with  her  eyes  and 
thoughts  on  her  boy,  even  though  Helen  Daunton 


TORT    FRAYNE.  87 

was  reading  aloud  to  her  a  long,  interesting  letter, 
there  came  a  shout  from  Will  that  brought  the  blood 
to  Ellis's  face  and  drove  it  instantly  from  Helen 
Daunton's.  Confronting  each  other  as  they  sat,  each 
saw  and  marked  unerringly  the  effect  upon  the  other 
of  Will's  jubilant  announcement. 

"Here's  Jack  Ormsby!" 

Helen  made  her  escape  from  the  room  that  night 
before  he  entered,  had  never  been  in  the  parlor  on 
the  occasion  of  his  brief  visits  thereafter,  yet  had 
seen  him.  Ellis  never  forgot  how  the  evening  of  bis 
last  call,  when  his  card  came  up  to  her  she  remem 
bered  that  Mrs.  Daunton  was  searching  at  that  mo 
ment  for  a  book  in  the  library  back  of  the  parlor. 

•1 

She  noted  that  Helen  did  not  come  at  once  away,  as 
had  been  her  wont.  She  lingered  a  few  minutes  over 
the  last  touches  to  her  toilet,  for,  even  though  she 
was  distrustful,  jealous  of  her  lover,  she  was  woman 
enough  to  loose  no  chain  that  bound  him.  Her  heart 
was  fluttering  and  her  face  was  pale  as  she  stepped 
into  her  mother's  room  and  stooped  to  kiss  her  fore 
head,  and  Mrs.  Farrar  looked  at  her  wistfully,  as 
though  half  ready  to  plead  for  the  honest  fellow  she 
had  grown  to  trust  and  honor.  From  Mrs.  Daunton 
Ellis  had  wrung  the  admission  that  some  years  ago 
she  had  met  and  known  Mr.  Ormsby.  From  Jack 
Ormsby  she  had  learned  that  he  had  never  known 
a  Mrs.  Daunton  in  his  life,  and  her  heart  was  filled 
with  misgivings  as  she  went  swiftly  down  the  stairs, 
turned  sharply  at  the  bottom  and  in  an  instant  stood 
at  the  library  door.  Just  as  she  expected,  there, 


88  FORT    FKAYNE. 

peeping  through  the  heavy  meshes  of  the  portieres,  in 
visible  to  any  one  in  the  parlor,  yet  able  to  study  its 
occupants  at  will;  there,  clutching  the  silken  folds 
in  her  beautiful  Avhite  hands,  with  her  face  pallid 
and  quivering  with  emotion,  with  great  tears  trick 
ling  down  her  cheeks,  there,  deaf  to  her  coming, 
stood  Helen  Daunton,  gazing  spellbound  at  the  man 
who  had  dared  to  approach  her — Ellis  Farrar — in  the 
guise  of  a  lover. 

And  Jack  Ormsby  had  vowed  that  never  until  he 
met  her  had  he  known  what  it  was  to  love  a  woman, 
vowed  that  his  heart  had  been  all  her  own  ever  since 
I  lie  winter  of  her  father's  death,  ever  since  the  bitter 
day  he  had  to  break  to  her  the  dreadful  news,  and 
yet,  here  before  her  eyes,  was  evidence  that  this 
woman  could  look  upon  him  only  in  uncontrollable 
emotion.  What  folly  to  talk  to  her  of  never  having 
seen  Helen  Daunton  before!  And  even  then  an  idea 
flashed  upon  her.  Under  some  other  name  he  must 
have  known  her,  and,  though  he  might  deny  the 
name  he  could  not  deny  the  woman.  Jealous,  doubly 
jealous,  she  sought  to  bring  them  face  to  face,  and, 
entering  the  library,  quickly  turned  on  the  electric 
light,  and  would  have  opened  the  portiere  and  bade 
him  come  to  her  there,  but  Helen  Daunton  turned 
and  fled.  All  Ellis  could  afterwards  extort  from  her 
was  that  in  her  unhappy  past  Jack  Ormsby  had  be 
friended  her — stood  by  her  in  the  sorest  need,  and 
she  would  be  grateful  to  him  to  her  dying  day. 

"And  yet,"  said  Ellis,  ever  doubtful  and  suspi 
cious,  "you  refused  to  see  him,  you  shrank  from  him, 


FORT    FRAYNE.  89 

and  you  would  not  meet  him."  But  to  this  there  was 
no  reply. 

That  night  was  Ormsby's  last  call  before  he  went 
abroad.  And  now,  with  Christmas  near  at  hand,  and 
her  jealousy  ever  wrestling  with  her  better  nature, 
and  the  respect,  even  the  regard  she  felt  growing 
within  her  for  this  lovely  woman  who  was  so  devoted 
to  her  mother,  Ellis  Farrar  knew  not  what  to  think 
or  say  when  she  noticed  the  unerring  signs  of  Malcolm 
Leale's  growing  love  and  of  the  evident  pleasure, 
despite  all  her  gentle  reserve,  the  woman  felt  in  his 
society. 

Even  to  Helen  then  the  coming  Christmastide  was 
bringing  that  which  women  prize  and  welcome.  Only 
Ellis  in  all  the  busy  garrison  found  no  comfort  in 
the  happy  season,  for  the  lover  she  longed  and 
longed  to  see  was  by  her  own  act  banished  from  her 
life. 

Day  after  day,  as  December  wore  on,  and  she  noted 
the  faint  color  that  had  come  back  to  her  mother's 
face,  and  even  at  this  altitude,  so  far  up  toward  the 
heights  of  the  Rockies,  her  mother's  heart  gave  no 
symptoms  of  distress,  Ellis  grew  thankful  for  their 
coming,  even  when  she  heard  that  Ormsby  had  at 
last  returned  and  was  again  in  NCAV  York.  Day  by 
day,  as  she  watched  Mrs.  Daunton,  all  her  old  fears 
and  fancies  seemed  shamed  to  silence, — so  gentle,  so 
pure  hearted,  so  full  of  grace  and  loving  kindness 
she  seemed.  Sometimes  it  was  even  on  Ellis's  lips  to 
speak  an  impetuous  appeal,  to  throw  herself  on 
Helen's  mercy,  proclaim  the  injustice,  the  cruelty  of 


90  FORT    FKAYNE. 

her  jealousy  and  her  suspicions,  but  to  implore  her 
to  tell  the  whole  truth.  They  who  watched  soon  saw 
that  even  in  proportion  as  Mrs.  Farrar  grew  in  glad 
ness  and  health  and  new  lease  of  life  from  her  com 
ing  to  Frayne,  it  was  Ellis  who  was  drooping  day  by 
day.  Yet,  proud  and  plucky,  and  determined,  the 
girl  bore  up  against  her  sorrow,  redoubled  her  devo 
tion  to  her  mother,  strove  hard  to  interest  herself  in 
Will's  friends,  was  attention  itself  to  Will's  impe 
rious  sweetheart,  who  little  dreamed  what  thought  of 
brother  Jack  wras  really  in  that  hidden  heart,  and  was 
making  heroic  efforts  to  believe  that  all  would  yet 
come  right,  and  perhaps  Jack,  too,  when  there  came 
an  odd  adventure  and  renewed  jealousy  and  dismay. 
Only  four  days  more  to  Christmas  eve!  All  prep 
arations  were  being  made  for  a  genuine  old-fashioned 
Christmas  ball  for  the  officers  and  their  families,  and 
a  Christmas  gathering  for  the  rank  and  file.  The  big 
assembly  room  of  the  post,  over  across  the  parade, 
near  the  old  log  guardhouse,  was  to  be  the  scene  of 
both.  In  loving  memory  of  her  husband,  Mrs.  Farrar 
had  had  a  large  portrait  painted  in  New  York  which, 
beautifully  framed,  was  to  be  hung  in  the  assembly 
room  and  presented  as  a  Christmas  gift.  Already 
detachments  had  been  out  in  the  Medicine  Bow  coun 
try,  bringing  in  huge  load^  of  evergreens  and  pines, 
and  the  men  were  hard  at  work  with  the  decorations. 
Terry  Rorke  was  in  his  glory,  for,  as  major  domo  of 
the  Farrars  long  years  before,  he  had  never  let 
the  year  go  by  without  rigging  up  the  Christmas 
trees  and  the  bright  festoons  of  green.  Even  Crow 


FORT    FKAYXE.  91 

Knife,  heathen  though  he  was  from  Terry's  Catholic 
point  of  view,  seemed  glad  to  take  a  hand,  and  the 
sounds  of  bustle  and  preparation  were  so  like  those 
that  rang  throughout  the  fort  three  years  before  that 
people  feared  the  thoughts  inspired  by  the  sounds 
might  only  serve  to  sadden  Mrs.  Farrar.  But,  on  the 
contrary,  she  seemed  full  of  sweet  and  gracious  inter 
est,  Ellis,  hovering  about  her  constantly,  found  her 
own  fears  allayed.  Then  came  a  typical  December 
evening,  clear  and  sharply  cold,  with  abundant 
enow  under  foot  and  a  cloudless  sky  over  head. 
The  sun  had  just  gone  down,  after  flinging  his  royal 
robes  of  red  and  purple  about  the  distant  mountains. 
The  gun  had  answered  with  its  thunderous  salute, 
and  the  flag  had  come  fluttering  down.  Far  away 
up  the  canon  the  whistle  of  the  express  seemed  a 
farewell  to  Frayne  as  the  train  sped  swiftly  on  its 
westward  way.  They  had  been  out  for  a  brisk  walk, 
Will  and  Kitty,  Ellis  and  Lieutenant  Martin,  her 
brother's  chum,  and  several  other  young  people  of 
the  post.  There  was  good  skating  down  the  Platte, 
where  the  snow  had  been  swept  away,  and  many  of  the 
little  party  came  back  dangling  their  skates  in  their 
hands,  and  the  keen  air  was  joyous  with  laughter 
and  merriment  as  they  climbed  the  bluff  under  the 
colonel's  piazza,  and  came  in  sight  of  Wayne  and 
Miss  Lucretia  sedately  spooning  at  the  gate,  and 
far  out  on  the  road  to  the  station  they  caught  sight 
of  the  Concord  spinning  postward  with  the  mail,  and 
Kitty  was  persuaded  to  come  over  a  moment  to  No. 
5,  before  dressing  for  dinner,  and  there  at  the  gate 


92  FORT   FRAYNE. 

the  party  had  dispersed,  Ellis  and  Kitty  entering  the 
house,  where  Will  promised  to  join  them  in  a  little 
while,  and  there  Mrs.  Farrar  had  joyously  welcomed 
them,  and  there  they  were  seated,  the  four,  while 
the  servant  came  in  to  light  the  lamps  and  draw  the 
curtains,  and  Kitty  was  chatting  like  a  magpie  and 
P^llis,  listening  with  only  languid  interest,  though 
her  mother  and  Mrs.  Daunton  were  full  of  smiles 
and  sympathy  when  the  Concord  went  bustling  up  the 
road  without,  and  still  the  chat  went  on,  for  no  one 
there  was  interested  in  the  Eastern  mail  just  then, 
and  all  of  a  sudden  Will's  voice  was  heard  without, 
joyous,  hearty,  ringing,  "By  jove,  old  fellow!  This 
is  just  too  good  for  anything!  No-no,  come  right  in, 
right  in  here — mother'll  be  delighted  —Kitty's  here 
and  Ellis."  And  the  door  opened  and  two  big  burly 
men  in  furs  were  ushered  in,  and  Kitty  gave  a 
scream  and  precipitated  herself  upon  the  breast  of 
the  foremost  and  hugged  and  kissed  and  cried  over 
him  a  bit,  even  as  he  was  striving  to  shake  hands 
with  Mrs.  Farrar,  even  as  his  eyes  were  searching 
for  Ellis,  even  as  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with  a 
woman  who  had  turned  deathly  white,  who  strove 
vainly  to  squeeze  past  him  to  the  doorway,  who 
bowed  her  head  into  her  very  breast  as  she  sought 
first  to  avoid,  then  to  hurriedly  acknowledge  the 
embarrassed,  wondering,  troubled  salutation  of  the 
new  arrival,  for  at  the  instant  his  eyes  fell  upon 
Helen  the  voice  of  Ellis  fell  upon  his  ear:  "My 
mother's  friend,  Mr.  Ormsby,  Mrs.  Daunton." 

And  all  he  could  find  words  to  say  was  simply  her 
name,  "Mrs. — Daunton?" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THAT  night  Ellis  Farrar  was  as  wakeful  as  the 
sentries  on  their  snow-bound  posts.  It  was  after 
midnight  when  she  returned  from  progressive  whist 
at  the  doctor's,  and  though  luck  had  befriended  her 
and  kept  Ormsby  from  her  side,  she  had  been  able 
at  times  to  watch  him  when  chance  brought  him 
near  Helen  Daunton.  She  noted  with  jealous  misery 
the  appealing  look  in  Helen's  eyes  when  once  they 
were  .for  an  instant  left  to  themselves.  She  could 
have  sworn  she  saw  a  little  scrap  of  paper  handed 
Ormsby  at  that  moment  and  quickly  stowed  in  his 
waistcoat  pocket.  But  the  rest  of  the  evening,  it  was 
Leale  who  devoted  himself  to  Helen,  and  Leale  who 
escorted  her  home,  and  this  fact  Ellis  saw  was  some 
thing  that  seemed  to  give  Ormsby  no  concern  what 
ever.  Had  she  not  been  blinded  by  her  suspicions,  she 
would  have  seen  that  poor  Jack  had  only  one  real 
source  of  trouble  that  night,  and  that  was  her  own 
determined  avoidance  of  him. 

Wheels  within  wheels  were  whirring  in  the 
garrison,  and  Ellis  Farrar  was  perplexed  and  worried 
more  than  she  could  say.  Even  placid,  garrulous 
Aunt  Lucretia  was  involved  in  the  recent  compli 
cations,  for,  within  the  past  three  days  Major 
Wayne  had  been,  on  no  less  than  three  occasions,  in 
close  and  confidential  talk  with  Mrs.  Farrar — a  talk 
that  on  one  occasion  had  left  the  gentle  invalid  in 

93 


94  FORT    FRAYNE. 

tears,  and  from  which  she  had  gone  to  her  room,  and 
was  found  there,  on  her  knees,  by  Ellis,  half  an  hour 
later.  Explanation  was  denied  her  at  the  time. 
"Xot  now,  Ellis,  dear,"  was  the  pleading  answer. 
"I  cannot  talk  to-night.  Later — after  Christmas — I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it,"  and  with  this  the  girl  had 
perforce  been  content.  Yet  here  again  she  mourned 
because,  while  refusing  to  tell  her  own  daughter  the 
reason  of  her  tears  and  agitation,  Mrs.  Farrar  had 
welcomed  Helen  to  her  room  and  found  solace  and 
comfort  in  her  society. 

This  lovely,  placid,  moonlit  night,  as  they  came 
away  from  Dr.  Gray's,  old  Fenton  was  plainly  dis 
appointed  and  Lucretia  as  plainly  disturbed,  when 
Mrs.  Farrar  quietly  and  possessively  took  the  major's 
arm  and  led  him,  rather  than  leaned  upon  his 
strength,  on  the  homeward  way.  Ellis,  escorted  by 
Mr.  Martin — anything  to  get  away  from  Ormsby 
this  night — had  hurried  homeward  and  then  to  her 
room  and  out  of  sight,  yet  noted  how  long  her 
mother  detained  the  dreamy  major  at  the  gate,  while 
Leale  and  Helen  Daunton  conversed  in  the  little 
parlor.  There  had  been  a  gathering  at  the  Amorys' 
that  same  evening,  a  little  dinner  party,  as  Mrs. 
Amory  expressed  it,  "in  honor  of  those  who  are 
engaged  and  those  who  ought  to  be,"  and  pretty 
Xell  Wiiletts,  a  captain's  daughter,  and  young  Alton, 
of  "K"  troop,  were  the  first  named,  and  bewitching- 
Kitty  and  Willy  Farrar,  one  couple,  at  least,  in 
cluded  in  the  second.  Mrs.  Amory  was  a  charming 
hostess.  She  was  of  an  old  Kentucky  family,  had 


FORT    FBAYNE.  95 

wealth  and  beauty  to  add  to  her  charms,  and  had 
been  wooed  and  won  by  her  dashing  husband  long 
years  before,  when  he  was  a  boy  lieutenant  doing 
Ku-Klux  duty  in  the  distant  South.  She  declared 
Will  was  a  dark-eyed  edition  of  just  what  her  Frank 
was  in  the  early  seventies,  and  that  Kitty  Orrasby  was 
"too  like  I  was  twenty  yuhs  ago  fo'  anything,"  and 
Mrs.  Amory  was  so  loyal  a  Kentuckian  as  never  to 
forget  even  the  sweet,  soft  dialect  of  the  blue-grass 
country  she  so  fondly  loved.  Ellis,  to  Mrs.  Amory's 
relief,  had  begged  off  the  dinner,  saying  she  felt  she 
ought  not  to  be  away  from  her  mother's  side  just 
now,  and  frankly  explaining  to  Mrs.  Amory  the 
apprehensions  they  all  felt  on  that  mother's  account, 
especially  at  this  trying  time,  so  near  the  anniversary 
of  the  colonel's  death. 

With  all  the  worldly  goods  with  which  she  had 
endowed  her  husband  twenty  years  gone  by,  pretty 
Mrs.  Amory  couldn't  add  to  the  government  allow 
ance  of  quarters,  and  her  dining-room  would  only 
hold  ten;  so,  as  Ellis  wasn't  especially  interested  in 
any  man  at  the  post,  despite  the  attentions  paid  her 
by  Martin,  Jessup,  and  other  available  fellows,  Mrs. 
Amory  wisely  decided  her  to  be  deeply  interested  in 
somebody  far  away,  and  knew  the  man  the  moment 
Ormsby  came.  So  Ormsby  and  Ellis,  as  has  been 
said,  went  to  whist  and  carne  away  dissatisfied  and 
unhappy,  and  Will  and  Kitty  went  to  dinner  and  a 
dance  at  Amory's,  and  had  a  thrilling  tiff,  as  a  result 
of  which  she  refused  to  ask  him  in  when  he  took  her 
home,  even  though  Aunt  Lucretia,  hoping  it  was 


96  FORT    FRAYXE. 

Wayne,  beamed  upon  them,  though  it  was  after 
midnight,  from  the  doorway,  and  the  colonel  and 
Brother  Jack,  looming  up  through  a  cloud  of  cigar 
smoke,  shouted  to  the  suffering  subaltern  to  come  in. 
Wrathful  and  stung  to  the  quick  by  Kitty's  coquetry, 
Farrar  turned  indignantly  away  and  sought  his  own 
quarters.  The  lights  were  still  burning  in  the 
parlor,  and  he  felt  sure  Leale  and  Mrs.  Daunton 
were  there,  and  he  was  too  "miffed"  to  care  to  see 
them.  A  dim  light  was  burning  in  his  mother's 
room,  and  he  believed  her  to  have  retired  earlier, 
and  so  made  it  an  excuse  not  to  go  for  her  good 
night  kiss  and  blessing.  The  door  opened  just  as  he 
was  hurrying  by,  and  Wayne  came  forth  into  the 
clear  moonlight,  and  the  boy  wondered  that  he 
should  be  there,  instead  of  at  Fenton's,  as  usual,  but 
he  didn't  wish  to  see  or  speak  with  him.  He 
slammed  the  door  of  his  chum's  bachelor  den  as  he 
bolted  in,  never  noticing  the  bright  light  in  Ellis's 
window,  or  dreaming  that  his  sister  sat  there  alonr 
in  her  trouble,  while  he,  with  a  lover's  selfishness, 
saw  nothing  beyond  his  own.  She  heard  his  quick, 
impetuous  step,  however,  and  peeping  through  the 
curtains,  saw  the  light  pop  up  in  the  window- 
opposite  her  own,  and  readily  she  divined  that  Kit 
had  been  tormenting  him  again.  Verily,  the 
Ormsbys  seemed  to  exercise  a  baleful  influence  over 
the  Farrars,  and,  with  all  her  admiration  for  Kitty's 
better  qualities  and  her  remembrance  of  all  Jack';; 
goodness  in  the  past,  her  heart  was  hardening  against 
them,  as  it  was,  in  jealous  disquiet,  against  Helen 


FORT   FRAYNE.  97 

Daunton.  At  that  moment  she  seemed  to  long  for 
the  companionship  of  her  brother  and  wished  he  had 
come  in.  She  heard  her  mother's  gentle  words 
mingling  with  Leale's  deep  baritone  and  Helen 
Daunton's  low,  soft  voice,  and  again  the  feeling 
gained  ground  within  her  that  she,  to  whom  the 
mother  clung  with  such  love  and  dependence  in  the 
past,  was  herself  in  need  of  advice  and  sympathy, 
while  that  mother  was  finding  other  helpers  now. 
Wayne  had  gone,  the  servants  had  retired  and  still 
the  pleasant,  friendly  chat  went  on.  It  was  all  well 
enough  so  far  as  Malcolm  Leale  was  concerned,  but 
why  should  her  mother  so  utterly  confide  in  one  of 
whom  she  knew  so  little  and  of  whom  Ellis  was  be 
ginning  to  suspect  so  much?  Why  should  Helen 
Daunton  be  allowed  to  accept  those  unmistakable 
attentions  from  Captain  Leale  even  when  her  actions 
plainly  showed  that  there  had  been  some  mysterious 
tie  between  her  and  Jack  Ormsby  in  the  past? 

Then,  again,  came  recollections  of  the  note  she 
had  seen  her  slip  in  Ormsby's  hand  that  night,  and, 
longing  for  somebody,  for  something,  to  distract  her 
thoughts  from  her  own  angry  self,  she  tore  aside  the 
curtain  and  peered  out  on  the  night.  There,  not 
fifty  feet  away,  was  Will's  window.  There,  to  her 
right,  the  snow-covered  expanse  of  the  parade,  ter 
minated  at  the  far  southern  side  by  the  black  bulk 
of  the  one-story  barracks  and  the  glistening  lights  of 
the  guardhouse  tower,  where,  on  the  lower  floor,  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  and  his  corporals  held  their 
sway.  Off  to  the  left  lay  the  rolling  slopes,  all 


98  FORT    FRAYNE. 

white  and  peaceful  iu  their  fleecy  mantles  and 
glistening  in  the  moonlight,  save  where  seamed  by 
pathways  leading  to  the  river  and  disfigured  by  the 
wooden  fences  of  the  back  yards.  Far  across  the 
Platte  the  red  lights  burned  at  Bunco  Jim's  and 
some  unhallowed  revelry  was  going  on,  for  even  at 
the  distance  the  black  shapes  of  horses  could  be 
seen  tethered  about  the  premises,  and  one  or  two 
more  dim  dots  of  pedestrians  seemed  slowly  creeping 
across  the  stream.  The  post  of  the  sentry  on  No.  5, 
at  the  north  end  of  the  garrison  began  back  of  the 
colonel's  quarters  on  the  point  of  the  bluff,  and  con 
tinued  on  to  the  rear  of  the  officers'  quarters  at  the 
eastern  front,  where  it  joined  that  of  No.  6,  and 
even  as  Ellis  gazed  from  her  window,  she  could  see 
that  the  t\vo  sentries,  approaching  each  other,  were 
apparently  having  some  conference  about  the 
situation.  There  was  a  lo\v  fence  separating  their 
yard  from  that  next  door,  and  the  snow  was  almost 
untrodden.  There  was  no  pathway  around  the 
bachelor  den  next  door,  as  there  was  around  No.  5. 
Post  servants  and  orderlies  thought  nothing  of 
utilizing  the  hallways  of  quarters  occupied  solely  by 
subalterns.  The  back  gate  stood  open,  as  she  could 
see,  and  the  board  walk  leading  from  it  to  the  rear 
door  was  visible  for  half  its  length.  That  had  been 
cleanly  swept  during  the  day,  and,  leading  from  the 
gate  diagonally  across  the  yard  through  the  snow 
drifts  was  the  track  of  a  man,  and  right  at  the  rear 
corner  of  the  bachelors'  quarters,  half  concealed  from 
the  front  and  peering  eagerly  around,  evidently 


FORT    FKAYNE.  99 

studying  the  windows  of  the  ground  floor  of  the 
house  occupied  by  the  ladies  of  the  Farrar  family, 
was  the  man  himself — a  big,  burly,  heavily-bearded 
fellow,  in  the  fur  cap  and  rough  great-coat  of  the 
cavalry. 

Even  as  half  alarmed,  half  annoyed,  yet  certainly 
fascinated,  Ellis  hung  at  the  window,  she  heard  the 
party  breaking  up  down  stairs,  heard  Leale  wishing 
them  a  cordial  good-night,  and  closing  the  door. 
The  silent  watcher  heard  that,  too,  for  at  the  sound 
of  the  slam,  without  which  few  frontier-made  doors 
were  ever  known  to  shut,  the  dark  figure  popped 
back  and  remained  out  of  sight  until  Leale's  soldierly 
form  had  gone  striding  away  down  the  row.  Theu 
once  more,  slowly,  cautiously,  it  came  partially  into 
view,  steadily  scrutinizing  those  lower  windows. 

Ellis  was  a  soldier's  daughter  and  no  coward.  She 
was  conscious  of  an  impulse  to  throw  open  the  win 
dow  and  challenge  the  skulker,  but  even  then  her 
mother's  slow  step  was  heard  ascending  the  stairs, 
and  Helen's  sweet  voice,  as  the  latter  came  on  to 
assist  her. 

"  Indeed,  you  need  not,  Helen,"  Ellis  heard  her 
say.  "  I  have  grown  better  and  stronger  with  every 
hour,  every  hour.  Even  the  sadness  has  been  sweet. 
Even  the  old  scenes  have  brought  new  comforts. 
Even  the  new  sorrow  has  brought  relief  and  peace." 
' '  You  have  not  yet  told  me  of  that,  nor  have  you 
told  Ellis." 

"  She  shall  know,  and   so  shall   you,  dear  friend, 
to-morrow.     To-ni<>;ht  I  want  to  kneel — I  want  to  be 


100  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

alone."  Then  Ellis  heard  her  hand  seeking  the 
knob  of  the  door.  Hastily  she  turned  to  meet  her 
mother  at  the  threshold. 

"  You  are  better,  Queen  Mother,  God  be  thanked. 
You  have  looked  better  every  day.  Will  you — not 
come  in,  Mrs.  Daunton?  " 

"  Thank  you,  no;  not  just  now.  I  will  go  and  put 
out  the  lights  and  leave  you  two  together  for  a  while. 
I  know  Mrs.  Farrar  is  pining  for  a  peep  at  her  sol 
dier  boy's  window."  Already  Mrs.  Farrar  was  mov 
ing  thither,  and  Ellis  darted  eagerly  forward. 

"One  moment,  mother  dear,"  she  cried.  "Let 
me  draw  the  curtain — it — it  doesn't  work  well." 

And  with  the  words  she  boldly  threw  aside  the 
heavy  curtain,  and  noisily,  ostentatiously  raised  the 
sash.  Just  as  she  believed  would  be  the  case,  the 
skulker,  alarmed,  sprang  back  behind  the  corner  of 
the  adjoining  house  and  deep  within  its  shadow. 
Will's  light  was  still  burning  brightly,  and  in  her 
clear,  silvery  voice  his  sister  called  his  name.  "He'll 
answer  in  a  minute,  mother.  Don't  come  to  the  win 
dow  yet,"  she  added.  Then  again,  "Willy,  Willy." 

And,  as  though  answering  her  call,  as  though 
watchful,  ready,  eager  to  serve,  even  though  unsum- 
moned,  another  form  came  suddenly  into  sight  on 
the  moonlight  walk  in  front,  and  a  voice  she  well 
knew  hailed  from  over  the  low  picket  fence:  "Will 
has  just  gone  up  our  way,  Miss  Farrar.  I  brought 
him  a  message  a  moment  ago.  Can  I  be  of  any  serv 
ice?"  And  there,  of  course,  was  Jack  Orrnsby. 


FOKT    FEAYNE.  101 

"Thank  you,  no,"  was  the  answer,  in  cold  con 
straint.  "I  had  no  idea  lie  had  gone  and  that  yon 
were  there.  Mother  merely  wished  to  speak  writh 
him  a  moment,"  and  with  that  she  meant  to  dismiss 
him,  but  her  mother,  pained  l>yher  tone  of  constraint 
and  coldness  towards  one  whom  she  herself  so  greatly 
liked,  came  to  the  window  herself. 

"  Ellis,  you  are  not  even  courteous  to  that  honest 
gentleman,"  she  said,  in  gentle  reproach.  "Mr. 
Ormsby,"  she  added,  in  cordial  tones,  "are  you 
going  anywhere?  Are  you  busy?" 

"Entirely  at  your  service,  Mrs.  Farrar.  I  found 
myself  de  trap  at  the  house  after  the  colonel  took  his 
nightcap  and  his  leave,  so  I  came  out  for  a  stroll. 
The  major  and  Aunt  Lou  arc  trying  to  remember 
where  they  left  off  last  night,  and  Kitty,  I  fancy,  is 
bullying  the  lieutenant." 

"  Then  would  you  mind  coming  in  one  minute?  I 
have  a  little  packet  that  I  want  Willy  to  find  on  his 
dressing  table  when  he  comes  in." 

"Mother,"  pleaded  Ellis — almost  breathlessly, 
"I— I—5' 

"Hush,  dear.  Mr.  Ormsby  will  be  glad,  I 
know." 

And  Mr.  Ormsby  was  only  too  glad.  Promptly  he 
came  to  the  door.  Promptly  he  was  admitted  by 
Mrs.  Daunton,  who  stood  with  palpitating  heart  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"Thank  you  so  much,"  was  Mrs.  Farrar's  hail 
from  the  landing  above.  "It  is  in  my  room  and  will 
be  ready  in  one  minute,  if  you  will  kindly  step  into 
the  parlor." 


102  FORT    FKAYNE. 

And  then,  as  Mrs.  Farrar  passed  on  into  her  room, 
and  with  no  audible  word,  Mrs.  Daunton  and  Jack 
passed  into  the  parlor,  Ellis  standing  a  moment  con 
fused,  confounded,  irresolute — turned  back  into  her 
own  room,  and  only  by  a  miracle,  recovered  herself 
in  time  to  prevent  the  loud  slam  of  the  door.  Then, 
with  heavily  beating  heart,  she  stood  there  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  listening  for,  yet  not  listening  to, 
the  sound  of  voices  from  below,  the  cold  night  air 
blowing  in  from  the  open  casement  unnoticed,  even 
the  mysterious  prowler  at  the  back  of  the  house  for 
the  moment  utterly  forgotten. 

And,  meantime,  turning  quickly  upon  Ormsby,the 
moment  she  had  led  him  within  the  parlor  below, 
Helen  Daunton,  in  low,  trembling,  yet  determined 
accents,  spoke  hurriedly:  "I  had  not  hoped  for  this. 
At  best  I  thought  to  see  you  no  sooner  than  to-mor 
row  night.  You  have  read  my  note?" 

Ormsby  bowed  coldly.  "Yes,  but  no  words  can 
tell  you  my  surprise  at  seeing  you  here  in  this  house 
hold,  and  as  the  trusted  companion  of  whom  I  have 
heard  so  much.  Do  they  know  you  arc — " 

"  They  know  nothing.  They  have  made  me  wel 
come,  and  made  life  sweet  to  me  again,  after  it  was 
wrecked  and  ruined  by  their  own  flesh  and  blood.  I 
meant — God  forgive  me — when  first  I  came  to  them, 
lonely,  destitute,  that  some  time  they  should  know, 
but  from  the  first  I  grew  to  love  her;  from  the  day 
of  my  reception  under  her  roof  my  heart  went  out  to 
her  as  it  has  done  to  no  other  woman  since  my  own 
blessed  mother  died,  long  years  ago;  and  then,  then 


FORT    FRAYXE.  103 

I  learned  of  her  precarious  health,  and  I  temporized, 
and  now  I  love  her  as  I  love  no  other  being  on  earth, 
and,  knowing  that  she  never  heard  of  her  son's  mar 
riage — for  she  has  talked  of  him  occasionally  to  me 
— I  determined  never  to  tell  her  of  that  cr  of  the 
little  one  murdered  by  his  brutality.  I  have  hid  it 
all — all.  I  hid  from  you,  for  you  alone  knew  me 
under  the  name  she  bears  and  loves  and  honors.  O, 
Mr.  Ormsby!  you  were  kindness,  helpfulness  itself 
to  me  in  those  bitter  days.  Can  you  not  see  how 
impossible  it  is  for  me  to  tell  her  now?  Can  you 
not  help  me  to  keep  the  hateful  truth?  See,  she  has 
been  gaining  here  day  after  day.  Don't  let  her 
know — don't  make  me  tell  her — perhaps  kill  her  with 
the  telling — that  I  am  Royle  Farrar's  wife." 

"Hush,"  he  whispered,  for  in  her  excitement,  her 
voice  was  rising,  and  he,  listening  nervously  for  a 
footfall  that  he  knew  and  loved  and  thrilled  at  the 
sound  of,  heard  Ellis  pass  rapidly  along  the  narrow 
hall  above,  as  though  in  answer  to  her  mother's  call. 
"  Hush!"  he  repeated,  "I  must  think  of  this.  Tell 
me — has  Miss  Farrar  at  any  time — in  any  way — seen 
that  you  have  known  me  before?" 

"She  has,  Mr.  Ormsby,  and  I,  with  all  the  deep, 
deep  gratitude  I  feel  to  wards  you,  I  have  been  unable 
to  tell  her  the  truth  and  explain  what  I  cannot  but 
know  has  made  her  suspicious  of  me,  has  hurt  you 
in  her  estimation.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do?  what  shall 
I  do?"  she  cried,  wringing  her  white  hands  in  grief 
unutterable.  "Keep  my  secret,  I  implore  you,  just 
twenty-four  hours,  until  this  sacred  anniversary  so 


104  FORT   FRAYNE. 

fatal  to,  so  dreaded  by  her,  has  passed  away.  Let 
no  shock  come  to  her  at  Christmas.  Then  if 
need  be—" 

"Hush!"  he  again  warned,  for  Ellis  was  almost  at 
the  doorway.  ' '  I  must  see  you  to-morrow.  Until 
then —  And  then  though  the  sweat  was  standing 
on  his  forehead,  he  turned  with  such  composure  as 
he  could  assume,  with  yearning  and  tenderness 
beaming  in  his  frank,  handsome  face,  to  meet  the 
proud  girl  whom  he  loved  and  in  whose  averted 
eyes  he  seemed  to  read  his  sentence.  Never  enter 
ing  the  room,  but  halting  short  at  the  doorway,  she 
gave  one  quick  glance  at  the  woman,  who,  turning 
her  back  upon  them,  first  seemingly  busied  herself  at 
the  curtains,  and  then  moved  on  into  the  dining- 
room,  which  opened,  army  fashion,  from  the  little 
parlor,  and  then  was  lost  to  sight. 

"Mother desired  me  to  hand  you  this,Mr.Ornisby," 
was  all  that  Ellis  said,  and  then  coldly  turned  away. 

"  Ellis!  "  he  cried  in  a  low,  eager,  sorrowing  tone, 
as  he  sprang  after  her.  "Ellis — Ellis!  " 

But  instantly,  with  uplifted  hand,  she  turned, 
first  as  though  to  confront  and  warn  him  back,  then 
as  though  commanding  silence.  "Hush — listen!" 
she  said.  "What  is  that?  " 

Something  like  an  inarticulate,  stifled,  moaning 
cry  came  from  the  direction  of  the  dining-room,  and 
rushing  thither,  swiftly,  noiselessly  as  he  could, 
Ormsby  was  just  in  time  to  see  Helen  Daunton  reel 
ing  back  from  the  window  and  staggering  toward 
the  sofa. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

'  TWAS  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  Frayne  was 
merry  with  the  music  of  Christmas  preparation.  Ever 
since  reveille  the  men  had  been  busily  at  work,  and 
while  most  of  them  were  engaged  in  the  decoration 
of  their  barracks,  messrooms,  and  the  little  chapel, 
Terry  Rorke,  with  a  good  sized  squad,  was  still  put 
ting  the  finishing  touches  on  the  assembly  hall.  An 
odd  thing  had  happened  that  morning.  No  one  had 
ever  known  that  fellow  Graice  to  offer  to  do  a  stroke 
of  work  of  any  kind,  especially  where  Rorke  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  matter,  yet  here  he  came,  right 
after  reveille,  to  tell  that  very  man  that  if  it  was  all 
the  same  to  him,  he'd  take  the  place  of  Higgins,  who 
had  been  put  on  guard,  and  would  help  at  the  assem 
bly  room. 

"  There's  no  whiskey  to  be  had  there,  Graice,  if 
that's  what  you  want — and  ye  look  more'n  like  it. 
Answer  me  this  now.  Where' d  ye  been  whin  ye  came 
running  in  at  wan  o'clock  this  morning?  " 

"On  a  still  hunt,  Corporal,"  answered  Graice,  with 
a  leer.  "It's  to  keep  away  from  whiskey  this  day  I'm 
ready  to  work  with  you.  I'm  supernumerary  of  the 
guard." 

' '  You  were  drinkin'  last  night,  and  you've  had  y er 
eye  opener  and  brain  clouder  this  morning— bad  scran 
to  ye!  There's  an  internal  revenue  tax  on  the  breath 
of  you  that  would  make  an  exciseman  jealous.  But 

105 


106  FORT    FRAYNE. 

God  be  good  to  us!  av  it's  to  kape  mischief  away 
from  the  garrison  this  day,  I'll  go  you.  G'wan  now, 
but  whist — you've  no  liquor  about  you,  Graice?" 

"Devil  a  drop  outside  of  my  skin,  Corporal." 

' '  Then  kape  out  of  reach  of  it  and  out  of  the  way 
of  the  ladies,  lest  the  sight  of  yer  ugly  mug  would 
throw  them  into  fits.  Gwan!"  and  Graice  went. 
"Was  it  you,  you  black-throated  devil,  that  gave 
that  sweet  lady  her  fright  last  night?  "  he  continued 
reflectively.  "There's  no  provin'  it  beyond  the  boot 
tracks,  and  they'd  fit  worse  looking  feet  than  yours — 
it's  the  wan  mark  of  the  gentleman  that's  left  to  ye. 
Yes,  Sergeant,  I'll  kape  me  eye  on  him,"  he  contin 
ued,  in  response  to  a  suggestion  from  the  senior  non 
commissioned  officer  of  the  troop,  who  came  forth 
from  the  office  at  the  moment.  ' '  The  captain's  hot 
about  that  business  of  last  night,  an'  like  as  not 
there's  the  blackguard.  Now,  what  on  earth  does  he 
want  to  be  playin'  Peeping  Tom  about  the  oflicers' 
quarters?" 

"No  good,  of  course,  but  we  can  prove  nothing, 
as  you  say,  except  that  he  was  out  of  quarters  and 
wasn't  at  Bunko  Jim's  after  eleven  o'clock.  He  was 
here  and  in  bed  when  I  inspected." 

Very  little  was  known  about  this  episode.  Mrs. 
Daunton  had  quickly  revived  under  the  ministration 
of  Ellis  and  Mr.  Ormsby,  and,  half  laughing,  half 
crying,  had  declared  that  just  as  she  reached  the 
window,  the  blind  swung  slowly  back  and  the  moon 
light  fell  full  on  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  man 
with  a  fur  cap,  black  beard,  and  soldier's  overcoat. 


FORT    FRAYNE.  107 

She  could  describe  no  other  features.  He  saw  her 
at  the  same  instant.  Each  recoiled,  but  in  her  ex 
cited,  nervous  state,  it  was  too  much  of  a  shock. 
Ellis,  who,  at  first,  had  been  prone  to  attribute 
Helen's  prostration  to  the  interview  with  Ormsby, 
recalled  the  prowler  she  herself  had  seen  and  could 
not  but  corroborate  Mrs.  Daunton's  story.  Jack  had 
rushed  out,  only  to  find  boot  tracks  in  the  snow  and 
an  unfastened  blind,  but  no  other  sign  of  a  man. 
Mrs.  Farrar  was  kept  in  total  ignorance  of  the  affair, 
and  only  Leale  and  Will  at  first  were  taken  into  the 
secret,  though  the  captain  at  once  went  to  consult  his 
trusty  non-commissioned  officers.  All  the  same, 
though  Helen  laughed  at  her  weakness  Avhen  morn 
ing  came,  she  and  Ellis,  parting  for  the  night  with 
but  few  words,  and  each  feeling  conscious  of  the  gulf 
between  them,  passed  a  restless  and  disquieting 
night. 

Just  what  mischief  that  fellow  Graice  was  med 
itating  puzzled  not  a  little  the  honest  pate  of  Terry 
Rorke.  For  a  time  the  man  worked  busily,  silently, 
lugging  bundles  of  greens  into  the  hall,  and  bare, 
stripped  branches  out.  Once  or  twice  in  answer  to 
chaffing  remarks  of  the  other  men,  he  had  retaliated. 
Once  again,  colliding  with  Crow  Knife  at  the  door, 
he  had  muttered  an  angry  curse  and  bade  the  redskin 
keep  out  of  his  way  unless  he  coveted  trouble.  The 
Indian's  eyes  flashed  vengefully,  but  he  spoke  no 
word.  It  was  just  after  guard  mounting  that  Graice 
had  offered  his  services,  when,  as  supernumerary,  he 
really  did  not  have  to  work  at  all,  and  was  not  prop- 


108  FORT   FEAYNE. 

erly  detailable  for  any  such  fatigue  duty.  By  ten 
o'clock,  however,  it  was  apparent  to  more  than  one 
present  that  he  was  drinking  more  liquor,  and  had  it 
concealed,  probably,  somewhere  about  the  premises 
or  in  his  overcoat.  Rorke  warned  him  and  got  a 
sullen  reply.  Not  a  minute  after,  although  strict 
orders  had  been  given  against  smoking,  because  of 
the  flimsy  nature  of  the  structure  and  the  large  quan 
tity  of  inflammable  material  scattered  about,  he  pre 
cipitated  an  excitement.  Right  in  the  entrance  of  the 
hall  a  big  square  box  had  just  been  placed  by  two  of 
the  men,  and  Crow  Knife  was  carefully  removing  the 
lid,  when  Graice,  lurching  in  from  the  dressing  room 
with  a  bundle  of  greens,  stumbled  against  the  edge 
of  the  case,  and  dropping  his  burden  with  a  savage 
curse,  he  drew  back  his  heavily -booted  foot  as  though 
to  let  drive  a  furious  kick. 

Instantly  the  Indian  interposed.  "Don't  kick!" 
he  said.  "Hold  your  hoof  there!"  shouted  Rorke, 
and  others  of  the  men  joined  in  their  cry  of  warning. 
Wonderingly  he  looked  about  him  on  the  quickly- 
gathered  group,  swaying  a  bit  unsteadily  even  now. 

"Why  not?"  he  scowlingly,  sullenly,  thickly 
asked.  "What  harm's  there  kicking  a  rattlebox 
that's  almost  broken  my  shin?  What's  the  matter 
with  you  fellow's,  anyhow?" 

"It  isn't  the  box,  you  goneril,  it's  what's  inside  of 
it!  That's  Col.  Farrar's  picture — God's  praise  to  him 
for  the  finest  soldier  that  iver  rode  at  the  head  of  the 
Twelfth." 


FOKT    FEAYNE.  109 

"That  Col.  Farrar's  picture?"  muttered  the  man, 
in  a  strange,  half  awed,  half  defiant  manner.  "Well, 
I  swear,  that's — that's  queer."  And  then,  in  some 
odd,  nervous  abstraction,  he  whipped  out  a  cigar, 
and  the  next  thing  they  knew,  had  lighted  it  at  the 
stove  and  tossed  the  flaming  paper  among  the  sweep 
ings  on  the  floor.  Instantly,  there  was  a  rush,  a 
trampling  of  feet,  and  just  as  Rorke  wrathfully  had 
collared  the  stupefied  man,  Lieut.  Farrar  burst  in  up 
on  the  scene,  stamping  out  the  few  remaining  sparks 
and  then  turning  angrily  upon  the  group. 

"  Who  dropped  that  fire?  Who,  I  say?  "  he  re 
peated,  for,  in  soldier  silence,  the  men  had  stood  to 
attention,  but,  true  to  soldier  ethics,  would  tell  no 
tales.  "Don't  let  that  happen  again,  Corporal,"  he 
went  on  sternly.  "You  know  well  enough  what  a 
lire  would  mean  hereabouts  with  the  cannon  powder 
stored  in  the  tower  yonder.  Remember  the  orders 
— the  guardhouse  for  the  first  man,  fooling  with  fire. 
Go  on  with  your  work."  And  then,  as  the  men 
turned  silently  away  and  Terry  stood  there  looking 
abashed  and  troubled  at  the  implied  rebuke,  Will 
sought  to  soften  the  effect.  "Why,  you're  doing 
great  work  here,  Corporal;  the  old  place  is  wearing 
Christmas  dress  and  no  mistake." 

"It  is;  Masther  Will,"  said  Rorke,  delightedly. 

"  Masther  Will!"  repeated  Farrar,  indignantly. 
"  On  my  soul,  Rorke,  you — 

"I  beg  the  lieutenant's  pardon,"  said  Terry,  all 
contrition  and  soldierly  respect.  "  But  I've  known 


110  FORT    FKAYNE. 

him  such  a  few  weeks  as  lieutenant  and  so  many  and 
many  a  long  year  as  Masther  Will— 

"That'll  do,  Corporal.  Have  the  picture  in  its 
place  as  soon  as  you  can.  Mother  will  be  over  here 
to  look  at  it." 

"Yes,  Mas— yes,  Sor." 

And  again,  as  Will  turned  angrily  to  rebuke  the 
poor  fellow,  there  was  a  gathering  of  the  men  at  the 
window  looking  out  upon  the  parade,  and  something 
was  said  about  a  lady  slipping  on  the  ice,  which 
carried  Will  away  like  a  shot.  Two  strides  took 
him  to  the  door,  and  one  glance  sent  him  rushing  to 
the  rescue.  It  was  Miss  Ormsby. 

And  then,  while  some  of  the  men  went  on  with 
their  work,  others  seemed  to  hang  about  Graice,  who 
was  oddly  fascinated  by  the  box  and  cast  furtive 
glances  at  it,  while  Crow  Knife,  under  Rorke's  direc 
tion,  was  quietly  unpacking  it.  Again  had  Graice 
wandered  unsteadily  over  by  the  stove,  and  stood 
there,  sullenly  kicking  at  it  until  one  of  the  men 
bade  him  quit,  or  he'd  start  a  lire  in  spite  of  them. 
"  You'll  have  us  all  in  blazes  before  our  time,"  were 
the  soldier's  words. 

"  Not  I.  Fire's  my  friend,"  answered  Graice,  in 
a  surly  tone. 

"An'  likely  to  give  you  a  long  and  warm  welcome 
if  you  carry  to  purgatory  the  spirit  you  so  sweetly 
manifest  here.  How  yer  friend?"  retorted  Rorke. 

"I  mean  it  saved  my  life  a  year  ago  in  Mexico. 
I  saw  a  girl  once  too  often  for  her  lover's  good- 
hot-headed  cur!  He  would  have  it  and  got  it — in 


FORT    FRAYNE.  Ill 

the  heart —  and  I  got  in  quod  and  our  Consul  couldn't 
help  me.  I  am  not  the  kind  of  citizen  the  United 
States  hinders  a  foreign  Government  from  sending  to 
kingdom  come,  and  I  was  mighty  nigh  getting 
there." 

"And  ye  didn't,"  said  Terry  highly  interested. 
"  The  dispensations  of  hiven  are  past  findin'  out." 

"Fire's  stood  my  friend,  I  say.  I  had  my  pipe — 
greasers  ain't  the  damned  martinets  you  have  here — 
and  a  spark  went  into  the  straw.  It  blazed  in  an 
instant.  There  was  hell  to  pay,  with  the  guard  and 
greasers  and  prisoners  running  every  which  way. 
The  prison  had  a  little  tower  like  that  yonder,"  said 
he,  pointing  to  the  wooden  structure  above  the  old 
log  guardhouse.  "I  saw  my  chance  in  the  con 
fusion  and  ran  for  it.  It  was  stone  and  never  took 
fire,  and  I  got  safely  away  at  night  and  vamoosed 
the  coxmtry,  and  read  afterward  how  the  flames  had 
devoured  the  ruffianly  murderer  Roy — "  and  here  he 
caught  himself,  with  sudden  gulp,  seeing  Rorke's 
suspicious  eyes  upon  him." 

"Eh,  Graice,  Roy,  you  were  saying." 

"  Murderer,  roisterer,  and  rascal,  Tom  Graice," 
he  went  on.  "  So  I've  nothing  to  fear  from  fire." 

Rorke  eyed  him  long  and  distrustfully,  grunting 
audible  comment  on  the  story,  to  which  some  of  the 
men  had  listened  in  absorbed  interest,  while  others 
were  busily  removing  the  picture  and  setting  it  in 
place  upon  the  wall.  Then,  as  it  was  fairly  hung, 
Crow  Knife  stepped  back  across  tho  room,  his  eyes 
reverently  fixed  upon  the  fine,  soldierly  face.  Graice, 


112  FORT    FRAYXE. 

meantime,  after  a  hurried  glance  about  him,  had 
drawn  a  flask  from  his  vest  pocket,  and  had  lifted  it 
to  his  lips  when  Rorke  grabbed  it. 

"  I  thought  so,  ye  mad-brained  gabbler!  You'll 
be  drunk  before  the  day's  half  over.  Get  up  and 
look  at  the  picture,  man.  It's  looking  at  you 
straight  and  stern." 

"  Who — who's  looking  at  me?  What  damned  rot 
are  you  talking?  "  shuddered  Graice. 

"The  colonel  is,  and  as  if  he  didn't  relish  the 
sight — small  blame  to  him." 

"  It's  a  Baying  of  my  people,"  said  Crow,  in  his 
slow  solemn  tone,  "Whom  the  eyes  of  the  dead 
call  must  rir.e  and  follow." 

"  You  croaking — "  hissed  Graice,  leaping  to  his 
feet  and  rushing  at  the  Indian,  but  Rorke  threw 
himself  between  them. 

"  Play  wid  fire  when  ye  may,  man,  but  niver  wid 
a  tame  tiger.  Hush,  now.  Go  out  this  door  and 
cool  that  crazy  head  of  yours.  Here  come  the 
ladies." 

Instantly  the  excited  group  scattered,  the  men  re 
suming  their  work  as  though  at  no  time  thought  of 
crime  or  quarrel  had  entered  there,  but  Rorke's  heart 
was  thumping  hard  as  he  went  to  his  station.  First 
to  enter  were  Captain  Leale  and  Mrs.  Daunton,  though 
the  blithe  voices  and  cheery  laughter  of  the  others 
could  be  heard  without.  Evidently  there  was  fun 
at  Kitty's  expense,  and  Leale  had  seized  the  oppor 
tunity  to  draw  Helen  to  one  side.  They  were  talk 
ing  earnestly  as  they  entered. 


FOET    FKAYNE.  113 

"  It  seems  providential  that  Will's  first  station 
should  bring  his  mother  back  to  the  old  home. 
Here  and  now  at  least  she  should  be  safe  from 
all  shock,  especially  with  your  care  to  guard  her, 
Mrs.  Dauntou.  She  said  to  me  only  yesterday: 
'  Helen  came  to  me  only  a  little  over  a  year  ago,  but 
I  think  I  have  needed  her  for  years.  She  is  dear 
to  me,  almost  as  my  own  daughter.' ' 

"God  bless  her  foi  those  words,"  said  Helen, 
deeply  moved.  "  I  came  to  her  as  a  dependent,  but 
she  has  taught  me  a  new  definition  of  motherhood." 

"  Motherhood  has  its  sorrowful  meaning  for  Mrs. 
Farrar,"  said  Leale,  gravely,  his  handsome,  dark 
eyes  fixed  upon  her  face.  "  Has  she  never  spoken 
to  you  about  Royle,  her  eldest  son?  " 

"  She  has  sometimes  mentioned  him,"  said  Helen, 
with  great  constraint.  "  But  she  can  hardly  bear  to 
speak  of  him,  and  I  know  the  bitter  sorrow  he 
brought  to  every  one  who  loved  him,  but,"  she 
added,  quickly,  as  though  eager  to  change  the  sub 
ject,  "how  cozy  and  warm  and  Christmasy  it  looks 
and  smells!  I  shall  have  another  new  definition — 
what  Christmas  means.  We  learn  many  definitions, 
do  we  not,  as  life  goes  on,  and  sometimes  fate  is 
good  to  us  and  lets  us  learn  the  happiest  last." 

"  And  you  have  learned  a  sad  one  of  Christmas?  " 

"I?  A  very  sad  one.  My  own  baby  died  in  my 
arms  on  Christmas  Eve." 

Leale  bent  earnestly  towards  the  sad,  sweet  face, 
a  deep  emotion  in  his  own,  but  at  the  moment  Ellis 
entered  followed  closely  by  Ormsby.  She  bowed  in 


114  FORT    FRAYXE. 

evident  constraint  at  sight  of  the  couple  already 
there,  and  looked  as  though  she  would  gladly  have 
turned  about  again.  After  her  came  Will  and  Kitty, 
and  other  young  people  of  the  post,  all  eager  and 
intent  on  inspecting  the  preparations  being  made,  all 
full  of  compliment  to  Rorke  for  the  success  attend 
ing  his  labors,  all  full  of  admiration  of  the  portrait 
which  they  grouped  about  and  admired,  while  Ellis 
hung  her  father's  sabre  underneath.  And  then  once 
again  the  whole  party,  chatting  merrily,  went  drift 
ing  out  into  the  crisp  air  and  glorious  sunshine, 
leaving  glowering  after  them  from  the  doorway  of 
the  little  room  that  opened  off  the  main  hall  the  ill- 
favored,  ill-liked  soldier  Graice. 

Two  minutes  later,  and  no  one  could  explain  how 
it  started,  or  what  was  its  exciting  cause,  with 
hardly  a  spoken  word  or  premonitory  symptom,  two 
men  were  clinched  in  furious  struggle — one  heavy, 
burly,  powerful,  and  gifted  with  almost  demoni.ic 
strength,  had  hurled  the  other  down.  That  other, 
lithe,  sinewy,  panther-like  in  every  motion,  writhed 
from  underneath  his  huge  antagonist,  and  had 
sprung  to  his  feet,  while  the  first,  more  slowly 
heaved  himself  upward,  and  then,  like  a  maddened 
bull,  dashed  at  his  foe.  Springing  lightly  to  one 
side,  Crow  Knife,  for  it  was  he,  whipped  from  its 
sheath  a  glittering  blade,  and  poised  it  high  in  air, 
and  Graice,  even  in  his  blind  fury,  saw  and  hesi 
tated.  There  was  a  rush  of  the  workmen  to  the 
spot,  but  Captain  Leale  was  first  of  all.  Clear  and 
cold  and  stern  his  voice  was  heard:  "Drop  that 


FORT    FRAYXE.  115 

knife!  drop  that  knife,  I  say!"  and  slowly,  reluc 
tantly,  though  his  eyes  were  blazing  with  hate  and 
rage,  the  Indian  turned  towards  the  man  he  had 
learned  to  trust,  to  honor,  and  to  obey,  and  the 
knife  fell  clattering  to  the  floor.  Graice  made  a 
lunge  as  though  to  grab  it,  and  Rorke's  ready  foot 
tripped  and  felled  him.  Then,  with  both  hands,  the 
Irishman  grabbed  him  by  the  collar  and  dragged 
him,  dazed  and  scowling,  to  his  feet. 

"There  are  ladies  coming,  sir,"  was  the  low- 
murmured  warning  of  one  of  the  men. 

"Take  that  man  out  and  cool  him  off,"  said  Leale, 
still  calmly  to  the  corporal.  "I'll  hear  the  story 
later.  Quiet  now  one  and  all,"  he  added,  as  the 
group  dispersed.  "  It  is  Mrs.  Farrar." 

They  met  at  the  very  doorway,  the  fair,  radiant 
woman,  closely  followed  by  her  daughter,  the  dazed, 
hulking  soldier,  led  or  rather  driven  forth  by  Corporal 
Korkc,  and  instantly  a  change,  swift  and  fearsome, 
shot  across  the  sweet,  pathetic  face.  One  glance  was 
all,  and  then,  pale  as  death,  she  tottered  feebly  for 
ward.  Ellis  sprang  to  her  side  in  sudden  alarm. 
"Mother,  dearest,  what  is  wrong?  How  you 
tremble ! " 

For  a  moment  she  could  not  speak.  "It  is  folly, 
it  is  weakness!"  she  faltered.  "But  that  face — that 
dreadful  face!  The  look  in  those  eyes — the  awful 
glitter  that  only  liquor  kindles.  I  have  not  seen 
that  look  since — Oh,  whenever  I  see  it  I  say,  God 
pity,  pity  his  mother." 


116  FOKT   FEAYNE. 

And  then  Helen  Daunton  came  hastily  in  anil 
helped  to  lead  the  agitated  Avoman  to  a  seat,  and 
there  she  knelt  beside  her  and  soothed  and  comforted 
and  cooed  to  her  as  women  croon  over  a  tired  child, 
and  Leale  hovered  helpfully  about,  grave,  strong, 
and  gentle,  and  it  was  on  his  arm  she  leaned,  with 
Helen  at  her  side,  when  finally  she  stood  to  look  at 
her  husband's  portrait.  And  little  by  little  she  grew 
calm  and  the  fluttering  at  her  heart  ceased  to  distress 
her,  and  Ellis,  turning  reluctantly  away  at  the 
bidding  of  her  garrison  friends,  left  her  mother  to 
the  ministrations  of  the  woman  whom  with  every 
hour,  more  and  more,  she  learned  to  look  upon  as  a 
rival;  and  then,  saying  that  he  would  call  for  them 
in  a  few  minutes  with  his  sleigh,  believing  that  a 
short  drive  in  the  exhilarating  air  would  be  of  benefit, 
Leale,  too,  left  them,  and  Mrs.  Farrar  and  Helen 
Uaunton  were  practically  alone.  Mess  call  sounding 
cheerily  had  called  the  men  to  their  noonday  meal. 

The  eyes  of  the  elder  woman  had  followed  the  tall, 
soldierly  form  of  Leale  as  he  left  the  room,  and  then, 
tenderly,  questioningly,  almost  entreatingly,  turned 
upon  Helen. 

"I  love  him  almost  as  I  do  my  own  son,  Helen. 
My  husband  died  in  his  arms.  Surely  you  must 
realize  that  his  great  heart  has  belonged  to  you  ever 
since  he  first  set  eyes  on  your  bonny  face." 

Mrs.  Daunton  almost  started  to  her  feet. 

"Oh,  not  that !  Surely,  not  that !  He  is  my  good, 
true  friend,"  she  cried. 


FOBT    FBAYNE.  117 

"Not  the  less  your  friend  because  all  your  lover, 
Helen." 

"Oh,  never  my  lover!  I  have  no  right — I  am  not 
free!" 

"Listen  to  me,  Helen,"  pleaded  her  friend.  "Shall 
one  mistake  blight  a  lifetime?  I  know  your  short 
marriage  experience  was  a  cruel  one." 

"It  was — heaven  knows  it  was,"  assented  Helen, 
shuddering. 

"Then  do  not  make  youth's  mistake,  dear,"  con 
tinued  Mrs.  Farrar,  "and  think  the  story  ended 
because  one  chapter  is  closed.  I  thought  my  story 
ended  when  they  brought  me  home  my  dead  soldier. 
I've  prayed  many  a  time  my  story  might  end  in  the 
years  my  first-born  was  an  outcast.  Helen,  I  have 
hardly  spoken  to  jon  of  my  eldest  boy,  but  I  can  tell 
you  now  that,  standing  here  to-night,  I  realize  how 
out  of  sorrow  peace  has  come  to  me.  Death,  which 
took  away  my  husband,  gave  me  back  my  son." 

"Death!"  cried  Helen.  "Royle  Farrar  is  not — 
dead?  " 

"Helen,  how  strangely  you  speak.  He  has  been 
dead  a  year,  though  only  recently  did  they  give  me 
all  the  cruel  facts.  Major  Wayne  learned  them  from 
the  Consul  in  Mexico." 

In  uncontrollable  agitation  Helen  Daunton  had 
turned  away.  "Royle  Farrar  dead!"  she  gasped. 
"  Then  I— Oh,  God  be  thanked!  " 

The  tears  were  blinding  Mrs.  Farrar,  and  for  a 
moment  she  saw  nothing  of  Helen's  agitation.  The 
bells  of  Leale's  sleigh  came  trilling  merrily  up  the 


118  FORT    FRAYNE. 

road  without.  Hastily  she  dashed  away  the  pearly 
drops,  and  smiling  fondly  drew  her  shrinking  friend 
to  her  embrace.  "Helen,  dear,  there  is  a  new  look 
in  your  face,"  she  whispered. 

"It  is  because  I  rejoice  in  my  soul  that  your  heart 
is  at  rest.  It  is  because  it  is  Christmas — Christinas, 
the  time  of  burdens  dropped,  of  old  sorrows  healed, 
of  new  births  and  sweet  beginnings.  Dear,  the 
Christmas  chimes  are  pealing  in  my  heart.  It  is  the 
first  real  Christmas  I  have  known  in  years."  And 
so,  her  arms  twining  about  her  friend,  she  led  her 
forth  into  the  radiant  day,  with  all  its  sunshine 
beaming  in  her  face.  One  minute  only  had  they 
gone  when,  crouching  from  the  dressing  room  at  one 
side,  his  face  bloated  and  distorted,  the  soldier 
Graice  sped  swiftly  across  the  floor  and  stopped  to 
peek  through  the  eastern  window.  Suddenly,  back 
he  sprang  and  stood  swaying  at  the  door  of  the 
anteroom,  as  Helen  Daunton  hurriedly  returned. 
Coming  from  the  dux/ling  glare  of  the  sun  without 
into  the  dimly-lighted  room,  she  almost  collided  with 
the  hulking  figure  before  seeing  it  at  all. 

"Mrs.  Farrar  has  left  her  cloak,"  she  faltered, 
"  will  you  kindly  move  from  the  way?  " 

"  You  thought  I  had  moved  from  your  way,"  was 
the  thick,  husky  answer,  "but  you're  mistaken,  my 
dear." 

Back  she  started  as  though  stung,  an  awful  terror 
in  her  staring  eyes,  her  blanching  face. 

"You — Royle  Farrar — and  here!"  she  gasped. 
"You — Royle  Farrar — Oh,  my  gracious  God!  " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ALARMED  at  Mrs.  Daitnton's  failure  to  rejoin  them, 
Leale  had  tossed  the  reius  to  his  orderly,  and, 
leaving  Mrs.  Farrar  seated  in  the  sleigh,  hurried  into 
the  building  in  search  of  her.  It  was  a  prostrate, 
senseless  form  he  found  close  to  the  inner  door,  and 
only  after  a  deal  of  trouble  did  she  revive.  Greatly 
alarmed,  Mrs.  Farrar  had  caused  her  to  be  driven 
straight  home,  and  there  the  doctor  came,  and  Ellis, 
and  ministering  angels  without  stint,  and  questioners 
without  number,  but  meantime,  Leale,  with  wrath 
ful  face,  had  gone  to  his  troop  quarters  and  sum 
moned  his  first  sergeant.  Graice  had  not  been  with 
the  men  at  dinner,  was  that  worthy's  report.  He 
was  at  the  post  exchange  eating  sandwiches  and 
drinking  beer  at  that  moment,  and  Leale  sent  for 
him. 

Something  had  tended  to  sober  the  man,  for  he 
came  into  the  captain's  presence,  looking  sullen,  but 
self-possessed.  "  I  warned  you,  after  that  affray 
with  Crow  Knife,"  said  Leale,  "that  you  were  to 
keep  out  of  temptation  and  mischief  until  you  were 
sober  enough  to  understand  what  I  had  to  say  to 
you.  Where  were  you  between  dinner  call  and 
12:30?" 

"  Walking  off  niy  heat,  sir,  as  the  captain  di 
rected." 

119 


120  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

Leale  stood  closely  scanning  the  swollen  face  of 
the  soldier.  He  was  always  grave  and  deliberate  in 
dealing  with  the  malcontents  of  his  command,  rarely 
speaking  in  anger  and  never  in  a  tone  indicative  of 
irritation.  Under  the  captain's  calm,  steadfast 
scrutiny  Graice  plainly  winced.  His  bloodshot  eyes 
wandered  restlessly  about  and  his  fingers  closed  and 
unclosed  nervously. 

' '  You  have  made  but  an  ill  name  for  yourself 
thus  far,  my  man,"  said  Leale,  "  and  this  day's  work 
has  not  added  to  your  credit.  What  started  the 
trouble  with  Crow  Knife?  " 

"  He  struck  me,"  was  the  surly  answer. 

"You  have  been  drinking  liquor  to-day,  Graice, 
and  it  is  said  of  you  throughout  the  whole  troop 
that  when  drinking  you  are  ugly  and  ill-tempered. 
I  have  known  Crow  Knife  a  long  time  and  never 
knew  him  to  be  in  trouble  before.  You  are  the  first 
man  of  this  command  to  quarrel  with  him.  Let  it 
be  the  last  time.  He  bears  a  good  name;  you  have 
made  a  bad  one.  Another  thing:  you  were  working 
there  at  the  hall  this  morning  under  Corporal  Rorke. 
What  became  of  you  when  the  other  men  left  and 
went  to  dinner?  " 

"  I — was  thirsty — and  went  for  a  drink,"  was  the 
shifty  answer. 

"  Went  where?  You  were  not  then  at  the  post 
exchange." 

The  soldier  turned  redder,  if  possible,  hitched  un 
easily,  the  bloodshot  eyes  still  wandering  warily 
about,  as  though  eager  for  any  light  other  than  that 


FORT    FEAYNE.  121 

which  burned  in  the  clear,  stern  gaze  of  his  captain. 
"I  went  for  a  drink,"  he  repeated,  "and  I'm  not 
bound  to  say  where,  and  so  get  some  one  else  in 
trouble.  I'm  not  without  friends  here,  even  if  I 
haven't  them  among  my  officers,  and  I  can  be  true 
to  those  who  are  true  to  me." 

"Such  talk  is  buncombe,  Graice,"  said  Leale, 
coolly,  "  and  you  know  it.  You  will  do  better  to 
keep  clear  of  friends  who  give  you  liquor.  You  are 
sober  enough  to  appreciate  now  what  you  hear  and 
what  you  say.  Keep  clear  of  it,  I  warn  you,  or  it 
will  be  your  undoing.  Are  you  not  for  guard?  " 

' '  I  am,  sir,  and  ready  to  take  my  turn  when 
needed,  but  I  can  take  no  such  affront  as  that  red 
skin  slung  in  my  teeth." 

"  Enough  on  that  score!  I'll  hear  your  story  to 
morrow,  when  you're  both  cooled  down.  Now,  go  to 
your  quarters,  and  for  the  rest  of  this  day  keep  away 
from  three  things — Crow  Knife,  liquor,  and — under 
stand  me — the  assembly  hall." 

The  sullen  eyes  glowed  with  new  anger.  The 
man  had  been  drinking  just  enough  to  be  reckless. 
"I'd  like  to  know  why  I'm  not  considered  fit  to 
work,  at  least,"  he  muttered. 

"  You  are  not  fit  to  be  seen  by  the  eyes  of  gently- 
nurtured  women,  Graice.  Your  face  is  bloated,  your 
eyes  inflamed,  your  whole  carriage  tells  of  the  havoc 
liquor  plays.  You  may  as  well  know  that  the  sight 
of  you  was  a  shock  to  our  guest  Mrs.  Farrar,  and  I 
suspect  that  you  could  tell  what  it  was  that  so 
startled  Mrs.  Daunton." 


122  FORT    FRAYNE. 

"I  don't  know  any  such — "  began  the  soldier  in 
the  same  surly  tone,  but  Leale  uplifted  his  hand. 

"  The  less  you  say  when  you've  been  drinking, 
my  man,  the  less  you're  likely  to  fall  into  further 
trouble.  You  go  no  more  to  the  assembly  room  to 
day,  because  I  forbid.  Do  you  understand? 

"I've  got  rights  to  go  there — ay,  or,  where  my 
betters  cannot  go — "  burst  in  Graice  in  sudden  fury, 
but  the  instant  his  eyes  met  those  of  his  captain  the 
words  died  on  his  lips,  and  the  red  lids  drooped. 

"You  have  said  more  than  enough,  sir,"  sternly 
answered  Leale.  Then,  turning  sharply  to  a  little 
knot  of  non-commissioned  officers  who,  at  the  barrack 
steps,  were  curiously  watching  the  scene,  he  called, 
"Sergeant  Roe!"  and  a  young  soldier  in  natty 
uniform  came  springing  forward,  and,  halting  close 
at  hand,  stood  at  the  salute. 

"  I  leaAre  this  man  in  your  charge.  He  is  for 
guard,  I  believe.  Set  him  to  work  at  his  kit,  and 
see  that  he  is  in  proper  trim — in  every  way — for  to 
morrow." 

"lie  may  be  needed  to-day,  sir.  He's  super 
numerary.  " 

"Indeed!  Worse  than  I  thought,  Graice,"  said 
Leale,  calmly.  "You  will  be  wise  to  take  a  cool 
bath  and  a  nap  then.  At  all  events,  see  that  he  does 
not  leave  the  barracks  this  afternoon,  sergeant." 

"I  will,  sir.      Come  on,  Graice." 

And  conscious  that  he  had  been  indeed  playing 
with  fire,  yet  raging  over  the  sense  of  his  en- 


FORT    FRAYXE.  123 

forced   submission,  the   half-drunken   fellow    turned 
and  followed  his  young  superior. 

Meantime  there  had  been  anxiety  and  dismay  at 
the  Farrars'.  Helen  had  speedily  been  restored  to 
consciousness,  only  to  be  overcome  by  a  fit  of  hyster 
ical  weeping,  succeeded  by  a  nervous  attack  that  de 
fied  the  efforts  of  her  fondest  friends.  Mrs.  Farrar 
had,  of  course,  sent  for  the  doctor,  but  Helen  in 
sisted  that  his  presence  was  uttei^y  unnecessary.  She 
begged  to  be  left  alone.  She  declared  the  attack  to 
be  no  new  thing.  She  had  suffered  just  in  the  same 
way  before,  though  not  for  two  or  three  years.  She 
seemed  eager  to  rid  herself  of  all  attendants.  In 
truth,  her  one  longing  was  to  be  allowed  to  think 
uninterruptedly.  Even  at  night  this  might  have  been 
difficult.  By  day,  with  sympathetic  inquirers  com 
ing  every  few  minutes  to  her  door,  and  with  her 
gentle  friend  sitting  at  her  bedside,  she  found  it  im 
possible.  If  she  closed  her  eyes,  that  leering,  half- 
drunken,  swollen,  triumphant  face  came  to  torment 
and  distract  her.  If  she  opened  them,  it  was  only  to 
find  sweet,  anxious  features  bending  over  her,  full  of 
tenderness,  sympathy,  and  unspoken  inquiry.  Do 
what  she  could  to  allay  it,  Helen  Daunton  saw  plainly 
that  Marjorie  Farrar  more  than  suspected  that  there 
was  some  exciting  cause  for  that  sudden  prostration. 
In  utter  helplessness  she  lay  striving  to  plan,  striv 
ing  to  see  a  way  out  of  this  new  and  most  appalling 
complication.  That  the  man  who  had  wrecked  her 
life  should  return,  as  it  were,  from  the  grave  was  in 
itself  horrible  enough,  but  that  he  should  reappear 


194  J  OUT    KKAYNK. 

in  (ho  flesh  hero,  at  Fray  no,  \vhoro  his  presence  was 

H  menace  tO  the  peace  of    SO    many     who   \VtMV  dear  U) 

her,  and  to  tho  very  life,  perhaps,  of  the  gentle  in 
valid  \vho  was  noaivst  of  all,  was  torment  indeed. 
For  so  mo  hours  sho  lav  thoro  faoing  hor  fate,  shut 
ting  out  all  thought  of  hor  newborn  hope  and  joy 
thus  summarily  blasted,  seeing  only  thinking  only 
of  tho  poril  that  involved  her  friend.  The  short 
winter  dav  wore  on.  The  spirits  of  the  younger 
members  of  the  soeial  eirele  seemed  undiinmed,  for, 
as  stable  eall  was  Bounding,  she  eould  hoar  merry 
ohat  anil  laughter  again  in  the  parlor  below  stairs. 
Kllis  alone  seemed  to  share  with  her  mother  the 
anxiety  or  uneasiness  whieh  followed  tho  events  of 
the  morning.  She  had  refused  to  join  the  little  party 
that  had  gone  up,  as  they  expressed  it,  "to  eall  on 
Kitty."  She  had  refused  partly  from  a  feeling  of  in 
disposition  to  any  gayety,  partly  from  a  sisterly  sym 
pathy  for  \Yill,  who,  sho  felt  well  assured,  longed 
for  an  uninterrupted  half  hour  with  his  oaprieious 
lady  love,  and  partly  boeausos  ho  shrank  from  appearing 
in  tho  colonel's  parlor,  thereby  possibly  givingOrmshy 
half  a  reason  to  think  sho  sought  him.  Evidently 
the  young  people  had  had  small  merey  on  \Y  ill. 
Evidently  Kitty  had  lent  herself  not  unwillingly  to 
the  fun  at  his  expense,  for,  after  biting  savagely  at 
his  linger  nails  ami  tugging  furiously  at  his  mus- 
taehe,  the  boy  had  pitched  angrily  out  of  the  colonel's 
house  ami  come  home  for  comfort,  and  thither  had 
they  followed  him,  two  or  three  happier  couples,  and, 
catching  him  in  the  parlor,  all  unconscious  of  Mrs. 


FORT    FKAYVE.  125 

Daunton's  seclusion  aloft,  were  as  bent  on  coaxing 
him  to  return  with  thorn  as  he,  with  assumption  of 
lordly  indifference,  was  determined  to  make  it  appear 
that  he  had  no  such  desire  or  intention.  He  carried 
bis  point.,  too.  He  knew  well  enough  that  Kit's 
complicity  in  the  plot  was  for  the  express  purpose  of 
teasing  him.  He  couldn't  afford  to  let  them  see  he 
was  indignant  at  her  or  at  them,  neither  could  he  af 
ford  to  let  her  see  that  he  was  not  justly  offended. 
And  right  in  the  midst  of  all  the  babel  of  protest  and 
appeal  and  laughter  the  door  bell  rang,  and  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  just  as  stable  call  was  sounding, 
listening  ears  heard  the  unctuous,  jovial  tones  of 
Corporal  Korke  inquiring  for  Capt.  Leale. 

Then  Will's  voice  responded,  and  Will  was  very 
distant  and  dignified.  "Captain  Leale  is  not  here, 
corporal.  Have  you  been  to  his  quarters?  r' 

"Sun;,  I  went  there  furst,  sorr,  an'  they  told  me 
he  was  here,  if  anywhere.  Thin,  bed  ad,  he's  no 
where." 

"He's  gone  down  to  the  stables  already,  perhaps," 
said  Farrar,  "and  you'll  find  him  there.  Yonder  goes 
the  call  now." 

"I  know,  mast — I  know,  sorr,  but  the  th rouble's 
right,  here,  sorr.  Hi^rgins  has  been  look  ill  on  guard. 
He  was  right  out  here  on  No.  .0,  sorr,  back  of  the 
quarters,  and  that  spalpeen  Graice  is  supernumerary, 
an'  they've  sint  for  him,  and  the  first  sergeant's 
afraid,  sorr." 

"What  of?" 


126  FORT    FRAYNE. 

"Graice  had  been  drinking  this  morning.  He's 
sober  enough  now,  sorr,  but  he's  nervous,  wild-like, 
excited,  tramping  up  and  down  the  barrack  flure  like 
a  caged  hyena,  sorr." 

"Then  tramping  up  and  down  the  sentry  post  will 
be  just  the  thing  for  him.  It'll  cool  him  off.  Put 
him  on." 

' '  Very  well,  sorr.  Just  as  the  loot'nant  says.  I'll 
tell  the  sergeant  at  once. 

Five  minutes  later  the  parlor  was  deserted  and  all 
was  silence  below.  Now,  at  least,  Helen  Daunton 
could  close  her  eyes  and  plan  and  think.  He  was 
to  be  placed  on  guard.  He  would  be  on  post 
right  out  here  on  the  bluff.  Then  what  was 
to  prevent  her  slipping  out  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening  when  all  the  others  had  gone  over  to  the  assem 
bly  hall,  speaking  with  him,  pleading  with  him,  im 
ploring  him  to  go  away  any  where —anywhere  where  he 
would  not  again  in  drunken  mood  endanger  that  poor 
mother's  life  by  the  sudden  shock  of  his  presence. 
She  would  agree  to  anything,  she  would  follow  him, 
slave  for  him,  starve  with  him,  be  his  wife  or  his 
handmaid — anything  to  get  him  away — far  away 
from  the  sunshine,  the  smiles,  the  hopes  and  joys 
and  blessings  that  had  been  hers  at  old  Fort  Frayne. 
One  other  plan.  She  had  but  little  money,  and  in 
their  flight  much  might  be  needed.  She  must  obtain 
it,  for  that  drink-sodden  wretch  would  surely  have 
none.  Go  she  must  and  would.  Go  he  must 
and  should,  for  any  day,  before  the  whole  gar 
rison — oh,  shame  unutterable!  he  might  take  the 


FORT   FKAYNE.  127 

notion  boldly  to  throw  off  all  disguise  and 
claim  her  as  his  wife.  Possibly  with  money  she 
might  bribe  him  to  take  kindly  to  her  proposi 
tion  and  agree.  Then  before  he  could  spend  what 
she  had  given  him,  she  could  escape,  return  to  the 
East,  and  somewhere,  anywhere  hide  her  head  from 
him,  from  friends,  from  the  world,  and  all.  Home 
she  had  none.  That  went  when  her  father  died, 
lonely  and  heartbroken,  two  years  before. 

And  in  all  that  garrison  to  whom  could  she  ap 
peal —  upon  whom  could  she  call?  One  man  there 
was  who,  well  she  knew,  would  open  his  hand  as  he 
had  his  heart,  and  its  uttermost  treasure  could  be 
hers  for  the  mere  asking,  and  that  man  of  all  others, 
was  the  one  who  she  prayed  might  never  know  the 
miserable  truth  that  this  was  Royle  Farrar — that  she 
was  Royle  Farrar's  wife. 

Another  there  was,  generous,  helpful  and  kind, 
who,  did  he  but  learn  the  identity  of  the  man  slink 
ing  here  under  that  disguise  given  by  years  of  drink 
and  debauchery,  would  aid  her  to  his  uttermost  farth 
ing,  aid  her  as  he  had  before  oui  of  pity  and  com 
passion,  aid  her  now  with  eager  hand  through 
thought  of  the  shame  that  would  come  to  the  girl  he 
loved,  the  shock  that  might  be  in  store  for  her 
beloved  mother.  There  was  the  man — Jack  Ormsby! 
But  how  to  see  him — and  when  and  where!  Not  a 
moment  must  be  lost,  because,  now  that  Royle's 
presence  was  known  to  her,  his  wife,  any  moment 
might  bring  on  the  further  catastrophe.  She  had 
never  known  him  to  stop  until  sodden  and  stupefied. 


128  FORT    FRAYNE. 

Drink,  drink,  drink;  in  some  form  he  would  find 
the  poison  and  gulp  it  down,  waxing  crazed  and  nerv 
ous  if  it  were  withheld  from  him,  turning  mad  and 
reckless  if  it  were  given.  Drink  lie  surely  would  all 
through  this  blessed  Christmas  eve,  and  at  any  hour, 
any  moment  on  the  morrow  she  might  expect  him  to 
appear  before  them  all,  in  the  midst  of  their  joyous 
Christmas  gathering,  in  drunken  exultation,  demand 
ing  his  seat  at  his  wife's  side  at  his  mothei-'s  board. 
What  that  would  mean  to  that  gentle  mother  whose 
very  life  seemed  now  hanging  by  a  thread,  God  alone 
could  say. 

And  here  she  lay,  hesitant,  impotent,  cowardly — 
when  the  lives  and  happiness  of  those  dearest  to  her 
were  at  stake,  shrinking  even  now  from  an  appeal  to 
Ormsby,  who  alone  in  all  the  garrison,  probably,  was 
competent  to  advise  and  help,  and  Ormsby  had  already 
suffered  and  suffered  much  on  her  account.  In  the  loyal 
observance  of  his  promise  he  had  brought  himself 
under  the  ban  of  suspicion,  and  with  half  an  eye 
Helen  could  see  that  Ellis  looked  upon  their  relation 
with  utter  distrust.  Great  heaven!  was  she  to  be  a 
curse  to  every  one  who  had  been  kind  to  her?  The 
thought  was  intolerable. 

Helen  Daunton  amazed  her  friend  by  springing 
from  her  bed  and  throwing  up  the  window  sash. 
"Air,  air!  "  she  moaned.  "I  feel  as  though  I  were 
suffocating,"  and  leaning  far  out  into  the  wintry 
twilight,  bathing  her  aching  head  in  the  cold,  spark 
ling  air,  she  gazed  wildly  northward  toward  the 
bluff.  Aye,  muffled  in  the  heavy  canvas  overcoat, 


FORT    FRAYNE.  129 

the  fur  cap  down  about  the  bloated,  bearded  face, 
slouching  along  the  sentry  post  was  the  form  she 
dreaded — hated  to  see,  yet  sought  with  burning  eyes. 
As  she  gazed  he  saw  and  stood  and  leering  over  the 
intervening  drifts  of  spotless  snow,  kissed  his  fur- 
gloved  paw  and  tossed  his  hand  in  half  defiant,  half 
derisive,  all  insulting  salutation. 

"Mrs.  Farrar,"  she  cried,  in  utter  desperation, 
turning  madly  away  from  the  hateful  sight.  ' '  I — I 
must  get  into  the  open  air  awhile.  You  won't  mind, 
dear.  I  must  walk — walk,  run,  rush  in  the  cold. 
No,  don't  come,  and  pray  let  Ellis  keep  with  you. 
In  ten — twenty  minutes  at  most,  I'll  return." 

"Ah,  Helen,  wait  until  Willy — until  Malcolm 
Leale  returns  from  the  stables.  See,  they're  coming 
now.  They  will  walk  with  you." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no!  Do  you  not  see?  I  must  be 
alone.  I  cannot  talk  with  any  one.  Let  me  go," 
she  cried.  Then  before  either  the  mother  could 
interpose  or  Ellis,  who  came  hurrying  into  the  room, 
could  urge  one  word,  she  had  seized  a  heavy  wrap 
and  gone  almost  bounding  down  the  stairs. 

At  the  threshold  she  recoiled,  for  there,  his  hon 
est  face  full  of  eagerness  as  the  door  flew  open,  stood 
Jack  Ormsby.  "I — I  was  just  about  to  ring,"  he 
faltered,  "  and  inquire  after  you — and  for — Miss 
Farrar.  You  really  startled  me." 

And  up  aloft  they  heard — Ellis  heard — the  eager, 
low-toned,  almost  breathless  answer.  "Oh,  Mr. 
Ormsby.  It  was  you  I  sought.  Come — right  in 
here." 


130  FORT    FRAYXE. 

And  drawing  him  into  the  parlor  she  closed  the 
door,  reckless  now  of  anything  Ellis  might  suspect, 
thinking  only  of  the  peril  that  menaced  one  and  all. 
Perhaps  Jack  Ormsby's  longing  eyes  caught  one  fleet 
ing  glimpse  of  feminine  drapery  at  the  head  of 
the  little  staircase.  Perhaps  his  own  wrongs  and 
woes  had  overmastered  him.  Perhaps  he  thought 
that  already  he  had  been  too  heavily  involved,  all  on 
account  of  this  fair  sufferer  and  suppliant,  but  certain 
it  is  he  followed  hesitant,  and  that  it  was  with  a  far 
from  reassuring  face  he  confronted  his  captor. 

"Mr.  Ormsby,"  she  burst  forth.  "How  much 
money  would  you  give,  at  once,  this  day,  to  rid  this 
post  of  the  greatest  shame  and  misery  that  could 
be  brought  upon  Ellis  and  her  mother?" 

"I  can't  imagine  what  you  mean,"  was  the  uncer 
tain  reply. 

' '  I  mean  that  Royle  Farrar  is  here — in  this  garri 
son — a  private  soldier  in  Capt.  Leale's  troop." 

"Mrs.  Daunton!     Are  you  mad?" 

"  Mad?  My  heaven,  I  well  might  be!  He  came 
before  me  this  noon,  with  her,  with  his  mother,  not 
twenty  steps  away,  and  taunted  me  and  threatened 
them.  Oh,  God,  he  means  it — he  means  to  make 
himself  known  to  them  and  claim  their  kiliship  in 
the  way  to  shame  them  most,  and  the  shock  will  kill 
her,  kill  her!  There  is  only  one  earthly  way.  He 
will  go  for  money." 

"He  can't,  if  he's  a  soldier.  It's  desertiqn.  It's 
— why,  they  follow  them,  capture  them  and  it  means 
state  prison  or  something  for  years." 


FOKT   FRAYXE.  131 

"  I  know  nothing  of  that — I  know  I'm  only  a  help 
less,  distracted  woman,  but  drink  and  money  are  the 
two  things  he  worships.  For  them  he  will  risk  any 
thing.  I  can  see  him  this  night.  He  is  this  moment 
on  post,  out  here  on  the  bluff.  You  know  him. 
It's  the  man  they  call  Tom  Graice." 

Ormsby's  hat  fell  from  his  hand.  "My  heaven! 
That  man  here  again?  " 

"Here,  here,  and  I  have  known  it  only  for  a  few 
hours.  See  what  I  am  suffering.  Do  you  not  see 
what  it  means  if  Royle  Farrar  makes  himself  known? 
— and  he  is  capable  of  anything.  Shame  to  Will, 
shame  to  Ellis,  heartbreak — death  perhaps — to  Mrs. 
Farrar.  Do  you  not  see  you  must  help  me  get  him 
away  from  here?  You  must  for  all  their  sakes  and — 
keep  his  secret  and  mine." 

"It  is  my  secret,  too,  Mrs.  Farrar,"  said  poor 
Jack,  rallying  to  the  rescue  now  that  danger  threat 
ened.  "I  will  do  whatever  you  wish,  whatever  you 
say.  You  shall  have  whatever  money  I  have  here 
and  more  can  follow.  You're  a  brave  woman.  For 
give  me  that  I  doubted  you." 

"Oh,  never  think  of  that  now.  Only  keep  my 
secret  yet  a  little,  and  let  me  see  you  before  ten 
to-night.  That's  the  hour  that  relief  goes  on  again. 
I've  watched  them  so  often.  And— and  all  the 
money  you  think— even  a  hundred — two  hundred 
dollars.  Oh,  God  bless  you  for  the  help  you  give 
me!  Xow,  I  know  you  wish  to  see  her,  and  I  must 
get  into  the  open  air  awhile." 


132  FOET    FBAYNE. 

Calling  the  maid  servant,  she  bade  her  take  Mr. 
Ormsby's  card  to  Miss  Farrar,  then  hastened  from 
the  house. 

But  the  answer  brought  to  honest  Jack — poor  fel 
low — was  that  Miss  Farrar  begged  to  be  excused. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  SNOW-CLOUD  was  hanging  over  Fort  Frayne  that 
lovely  Christmas  Eve,  and  the  moon  shone  down 
through  a  filmy  veil  of  lace  and  cast  black  shadows 
on  the  dazzling  surface.  Everywhere  about  the 
post  lights  were  twinkling  in  the  quarters,  and 
sounds  of  soldier  merriment  and  revelry  came  from 
the  barracks.  Over  at  the  assembly  room  Rorke 
and  his  party  were  still  busily  at  work  hanging 
festoons  of  green  and  completing  the  decorations 
for  the  morrow,  while  in  the  several  households 
among  the  officers  dinner  pai'ties  or  similar  enter 
tainments  called  together  under  one  roof  or  another 
almost  all  the  families,  as  well  as  the  bachelors  of 
the  garrison.  The  children  were  rejoicing  in  their 
great  Christmas  tree  at  the  chapel.  The  colonel  had 
bidden  them  all  to  his  big  house  for  a  Santa  Claus 
party  after  the  public  ceremony  of  the  post  Sunday 
school,  and  Aunt  Lucretia,  a  garrulous,  flighty, 
feather-brained  fairy  of  forty  summers  or  more,  was 
doing  her  best  to  get  the  little  gifts  in  proper  order 
against  their  coming,  being  aided  in  her  perplexities 
and  complications  by  the  dreamy,  but  devoted, 
Wayne.  Kitty  was  dining  at  the  Farwells' — a  tem 
porary  truce  having  been  patched  up  between  her 
and  Will  about  sunset  — and  Ellis,  too,  very,  very 
much  against  her  wish,  was  one  of  this  party. 
Oruisby  was,  of  course,  bidden,  and  had  been  placed 

133 


134  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

next  the  lady  of  his  love,  but  averted  eyes  and 
monosyllabic  answers  were  the  only  returns  of  his 
devotion.  Grieved  and  hurt  at  first,  the  sterling 
fellow  was  finally  stung  to  reprisals.  He  was  guilty 
of  no  wrong.  He  was  worthy  far  kinder  treatment 
at  her  hands,  and,  noting  her  apparent  determination 
to  talk  only  with  the  men  across  the  table,  or  with 
Captain  Amory,  who  had  taken  her  in,  the  New- 
Yorker  presently  succeeded  in  interesting  the  lady 
on  his  right,  and,  when  dinner  was  over,  arid  the 
women  passed  out  into  the  parlor,  was  enabled  to 
make  way  for  Miss  Farrar  with  a  very  courteous  but 
entirely  ceremonious  bow.  Ellis,  flushed,  but  in 
clining  her  head,  passed  him  by  without  a  word. 

It  was  then  nearly  8:30  o'clock,  and  the  gleeful 
voices  of  the  children  could  be  heard  returning  from 
the  chapel,  and,  mindful  of  his  promise  to  Helen 
Daunton,  Ormsby  was  already  figuring  for  an  oppor 
tunity  of  temporary  escape.  It  had  been  arranged 
that  most  of  the  officers  and  ladies  were  to  gather  at 
the  hoproom  after  ten,  "just  to  see  if  the  floor  was 
in  good  shape  for  to-morrow,"  and  Jack  well  under 
stood  that  Ellis  did  not  mean  that  he  should  be  her 
escort,  arid,  as  matters  now  stood,  he  did  not  desire 
her  to  suppose  that  such  was  his  wish.  Even  as  he 
was  pondering,  over  the  cigarettes  and  coffee,  how 
he  should  manage  the  matter,  and,  giving  but  ab 
sent-minded  attention  to  the  cheery  chat  about  him, 
Captain  Amory  suddenly  lifted  his  hand  and  said: 
"Hush!" 


FORT    FRAYNE.  135 

Out  across  the  parade,  quick,  stirring,  and 
spirited,  the  cavalry  trumpet  was  sounding  "  officers' 
call,"  and  every  man  sprang  to  his  feet.  "What 
can  it  mean?  "  "What  has  happened?  "  were  the 
questions  that  assailed  them  as  they  came  streaming 
out  through  the  parlor  in  search  of  their  great-coats. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  such  a  regiment?  "  exclaimed 
the  hostess,  impulsively.  "I  do  believe  we  never 
get  through  Christmas  without  a  tragedy  of  some 
kind!"  and  then  she  bit  her  tongue  as  she  caught 
sight  of  Ellis  Farrar's  startled  face. 

"I  think  if  you  will  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Farwell,  I 
will  go  to  mother  a  moment.  She  is  at  the  chaplain's 
by  this  time,  and  Mrs.  Daunton  is  with  her.  Still, 
I  feel  anxious.  All  this  may  excite  her  very  much." 

And  so,  while  the  officers  went  hurrying  away 
across  to  the  adjutant's  office,  Ormsby  found  himself, 
after  all,  tendering  his  arm  to  Miss  Farrar.  He  was 
the  only  man  left.  Kitty,  excited  and  agitated,  she 
knew  not  why,  had  made  some  comical  attempts  to 
detain  Will,  but  his  long  legs  had  by  this  time 
carried  him  half  way  to  the  scene  of  the  sudden 
summons. 

"Thank  you,  no.  I  do  not  need  it,"  said  Ellis 
coldly.  "Indeed,  I  do  not  need  escort  at  all  to  go 
so  short  a  distance." 

"It  seems  to  be  the  post  custom  none  the  less," 
was  the  grave  answer.  "Besides,!  think  I  am 
justified  in  saying  you  have  treated  me  with  aversion 
so  marked  of  late  that  I  am  entitled  to  know  the 


136  FORT    FBAYNE. 

cause.  What  can  I  have  done  to  deserve  it,  Ellis? 
Let  us  understand  each  other." 

"There  is  only  one  way,  then,  Mr.  Ormsby,"  she 
answered,  with  sudden  impulse.  "Who  is  Helen 
Dauuton?" 

"  Ellis,  I  cannot  tell  you  now,"  was  the  sorrowful, 
gentle  answer.  ' '  Be  patient  with  me  yet  a  little 
while." 

"Yet  you  know?" 

«  Yes— I  know." 

"And  you  say  let  us  understand  each  other,"  she 
answered,  bitterly. 

"Ellis,  I  said  to  you  before  when  we  spoke  of 
this,  there  are  secret  orders  a  soldier  must  obey  and 
not  explain.  In  these  last  few  hours  secret  orders 
have  come  to  me." 

"And  you  accept  secret  orders — from  her?" 

"  I  accept  them  from  my  honor,  Ellis,  for  I  have 
given  my  word.  No,"  he  implored,  as  she  hastened 
as  though  to  leave  him,  ' '  listen,  for  it  may  be  my 
last  opportunity  to-night.  I  know  it  seems  hard  and 
strange  to  you  that  when  I  would  lay  rny  whole  life 
open  before  you,  I  must  not  yet  tell  you  this.  But, 
Ellis,  I  give  you  my  honor,  I  am  hiding  nothing 
shameful  to  that  poor  woman,  nor  to  me.  It  is  only 
for  a  time  I  must  be  silent.  When  I  can  speak 
you'll  forgive  me,  dear.  You  will  thank  me  that  I 
do  keep  silence  now.  Trust  me,  Ellis.  Can  you 
not  look  up  at  me  and  say  you  trust  me?" 

Ah, .how  pleading  was  his  tone,  how  full  of  love 
and  fire  and  tenderness  his  manly  face,  as  in  that 


FORT   FEAYNE.  131 

still  winter  night  he  looked  down  into  her  eyes. 
Over  at  the  barracks  there  was  a  sudden  stop  to 
all  the  music,  but  men's  voices  could  be  heard  in 
excited  talk.  Along  officers'  row  many  a  door 
was  opened  and  women  and  children  were  peering 
out  in  search  of  explanation  of  the  unusual  summons. 
Over  at  the  adjutant's  office  a  dark  throng  had 
gathered,  the  officers  of  the  garrison  and  other  knots 
as  of  soldiers  or  Indians  could  be  seen,  but  Jack  and 
Ellis,  saw,  heard  nothing  of  this.  Her  voice  had 
the  ring  of  steel  to  it  as  she  answered. 

"If  it  were  just  a  question  of  my  own  happiness, 
I  might  trust  you,  but  it  is  my  mother's  happiness 
— perhaps  her  life.  I  must  know  all  there  is  to 
know  about  that  woman  whom  my  mother  trusts  so 
blindly,  I  must  know  for  myself.  In  the  name  of 
the  love  you  offer  me,  will  you  tell  me  the  truth 
about  her?  " 

' '  Ellis,  I  cannot  to-night.  I  have  given  my 
word." 

"  Then  keep  it,"  said  she  with  sudden  passion. 
<(  Keep  it  and  keep  your  love,"  then  turned  and  fled 
within  the  chaplain's  gate,  leaving  him  standing  on 
the  snowy  walk  without,  sorrowing,  yet  determined. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  there  following  her  with 
his  eyes.  Never  stopping  to  knock  or  ring,  she 
turned  the  knob  and  let  herself  into  the  brightly- 
lighted  hall.  lie  caught  a  glimse  of  the  gray-haired 
chaplain  bending  over  a  womanly  form.  He  caught 
one  fleeting  view  of  Helen  Daunton's  anxious  face. 
Evidently  the  call  had  been  heard  there,  too,  and, 


138  FORT    FKAYNE. 

coming  as  it  did  in  the  stillness  of  the  holiday  even 
ing,  it  boded  no  good.  Only  on  rare  occasions  or 
some  sudden  emergency  was  Fenton  known  to  call 
every  duty  officer  to  his  presence,  even  by  day,  and 
he  would  be  almost  the  last  man  to  break  in  upon 
the  festivities  of  the  season  with  a  stern  call  to  arms 
unless  arms  and  men  both  were  needed  somewhere. 
The  day  had  been  one  long  trial  to  Mrs.  Farrar,  and 
since  noon  one  long  torture  to  her  cherished  friend. 
And  so,  as  they  were  seated  about  the  chaplain's  fire 
and  the  trumpet  notes  were  heard,  and  a  servant 
hastening  in  said,  "It's  officers' call,  sir,"  just  as 
Ellis  feared,  her  mother  was  seized  with  sudden  faint- 
ness.  "My  boy,  Willy!  They  won't  take  him,"  she 
faltered,  and  then  sank  back  nerveless  into  her  chair. 
Ormsby  turned  and  sped  away  for  the  office.  At 
least  he  could  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  summons 
and  bring  them  tidings  if  it  meant  no  move,  but  the 
first  glance  through  the  window  at  his  uncle's  face, 
as  he  stood  surrounded  by  his  officers,  told  the  New 
Yorker,  already  experienced  in  frontier  garrison  life, 
that  something  imminent  was  in  the  wind.  Fenton 
was  talking  rapidly,  as  was  his  wont  when  roused, 
and  the  only  faces  in  the  group  that  did  not  seem  to 
kindle  in  response  to  the  light  in  his  keen,  sparkling 
eyes,  were  those  of  two  heavily-blanketed  Indians 
standing  sullen  and  imperturbable  beside  him.  Out 
in  the  snow  half  a  dozen  non-commissioned  officers 
were  gathered  in  a  group  by  the  little  knot  of  Indian 
ponies  and  cowboy  broncos  An  Indian  boy  lolling 
in  his  saddle,  replied  in  monosyllables  to  their  eager 


FORT    FRAYXE.  139 

questions.  A  brace  of  cowboys,  one  of  them  ob 
viously  in  liquor,  sought  to  impress  upon  all  within 
hearing  their  version  of  some  row  that  had  evidently 
taken  place.  Among  the  bystanders  was  Ormsby's 
old  friend,  the  sergeant  major,  and  to  him  he  ap 
pealed. 

"What's  up,  sergeant?" 

"  Been  a  fight,  sir — cowboys  and  Indians.  Christ 
mas  drunk,  I  reckon.  The  cowboys  were  having 
some  fun  with  their  lariats  and  they  roped  old  Big 
Road  off  his  pony  and  shot  at  him  when  he  showed 
fight.  Then  his  two  sons  shot  Laramie  Pete,  and  it 
looks  like  a  general  scrimmage.  Big  Road's  whole 
village  is  camped  only  ten  miles  down  stream, 
and  they're  war  dancing  already.  There's  a  lot  of 
drunken  cowboys  over  at  town  and  they  swear  they'll 
rouse  the  county  and  clean  out  the  whole  Indian 
outfit." 

Thanking  the  staff  sergeant  for  his  information, 
Ormsby  pressed  on  to  the  crowded  room  and  stood 
in  the  outskirt  of  the  throng  of  officers.  Fentoii  was 
speaking  as  he  entered  the  hall,  and  his  voice  had  no 
uncertain  ring.  He  had  been  questioning  one  of 
the  cowboy  leaders,  a  scowling,  semi-defiant,  but 
splendidly  built  specimen  of  frontier  chivalry,  and 
it  was  evident  that  the  verdict  of  the  commander 
was  against  these  turbulent  gentry,  and  in  favor  of 
the  Indians. 

"By  your  own  admission,  Thorpe,  your  fellows 
are  on  a  tear,  and  whether  they  meant  it  as  fun  or  not, 
it  was  rough  fun  at  best,  and  nothing  l«ss  than  a  mad- 


140  FORT    FKAYNE. 

brained  trick  in  my  eyes,  and  an  outrage  from  the 
Indian  point  of  view.  Big  Road  would  have  been 
no  chief  at  all  if  he  hadn't  resented  it  furiously.  It 
may  be,  as  you  say,  that  he  was  first  to  pull  his  gun, 
but  you  pulled  him  off  his  horse.  The  men  that  did 
it  deserve  to  be  shot,  and  I'm  sorry  he  missed. 
You  say  there  are  cowboys  enough  in  the  county  to 
clean  out  a  dozen  such  bands  as  his,  and  that 
Laramie  Pete's  friends  won't  rest  until  they've  done 
it.  Go  you  to  them  right  from  this  spot  and  say 
for  me  there  are  not  cowboys  enough  in  all  the 
territory  to  lick  this  regiment,  and  you've  got  to  do 
that  before  you  can  raise  one  scalp  in  that  village." 

"All  right,  Colonel  Fenton.  In  the  old  days  we 
used  to  say  blood  was  thicker  than  water,  and  in 
many  a  tough  place  we've  stood  by  the  soldier 
against  the  savage.  There  was  never  a  time  we 
went  back  on  you,  and  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever 
heard  of  an  officer  who  would  go  back  on  us — 

"Don't  distort  things  now,  my  friend,"  said 
Fenton,  coolly.  "I  never  would  go  back  on  you,  as 
you  say,  if  you  were  the  assailed  and  the  wronged. 
This  is  a  case  of  simple  justice,  and  I  interpose  to 
keep  the  peace  until  the  rights  and  wrongs  can  be 
sifted  and  settled.  Take  my  advice  and  keep  away 
from  the  village." 

"  There's  a  higher  power  in  the  land  than  the 
military,  Colonel  Fenton,  and  that's  public  opinion,  and 
public  opinion  says  Big  Road's  people  murdered 
Laramie  Pete.  Public  opinion  says  we  want  the 
murderers,  and  by  God!  we  mean  to  have  'em  even 


FORT    FRAYNE.  141 

if  we  have  to  clean  out  the  whole  village.  We  want 
no  fight  with  you,  but,  through  the  press  and  Con 
gress,  we'll  use  you  up  till  there  won't  be  as  much 
left  of  you  as  the  Sioux  left  of  Ouster's  crowd. 
Take  my  advice  and  keep  away  from  us." 

And  so  saying  big  Ben  Thorpe,  "king  of  the 
cowboys,"  as  they  called  him  on  the  Platte,  strode 
angrily  out  of  the  room,  the  officers  parting  in 
silence  to  let  him  go.  At  the  threshold  he  turned 
and  once  more  faced  the  post  commander. 

"  Another  thing,  Colonel  Fenton!  "  and  as  he  spoke 
Ormsby  could  see  how  the  strong  frame  was  quiver 
ing  with  excitement  and  wrath.  "  You  say  we're 
not  the  sheriff's  posse  and  we  cannot  act  in  accord 
ance  with  law.  There's  no  sheriff  in  all  Wyoming 
nearer  than  Rock  Springs,  and  I'm  sheriff  in  these 
parts  until  he  comes.  I'm  sheriff  enough  to  hunt 
murderers,  and  sheriff  enough  to  run  down  horse 
thieves,  and  do  it  without  waiting  for  warrants 
either,  and  that  damned  redskin  whom  you're  pro 
tecting  there  by  your  side  is  one  of  the  four  that 
shot  Pete  Boland.  I'll  send  a  sheriff's  posse  here  in 
ten  minutes,  and  I'll  give  you  warning  here  and 
now  we  mean  to  have  the  law  on  him  or  you,  and 
you  take  your  choice.  Will  you  surrender  him?  " 

Ormsby  felt  his  nerves  and  muscles  quivering. 
This  was  indeed  bearding  the  lion  in  his  den.  It 
was  a  new  thing  to  see  a  post  commander  braved  in 
his  own  bailiwick.  Fenton,  however,  never  showed 
the  faintest  irritation.  Checking  with  a  gesture 


142  yORT    FRAYNE. 


the  indignant  move  made  by  some  of  the  younger 
officers,  he  turned  quietly  to  the  officer  of  the  day. 

'  '  Captain  Amory,  let  a  file  of  the  guard  escort  that 
gentleman  off  the  reservation." 

"  So  be  it,  Colonel  Fen  ton,  and  let  the  country  know 
I  was  thrust  off  the  post  at  the  point  of  the  sabre. 
I'll  wait  for  my  escort." 

He  had  little  time  to  wait.  Almost  at  the  door 
way  already,  the  corporal's  guard,  obeying  the 
impatient  summons  of  the  young  officer  in  command, 
came  trotting  up  at  double  quick,  a  non-commissioned 
oilicer  and  two  troopers.  One  of  the  latter,  stocky, 
heavily  bearded,  slouchy,  with  furtive,  blood-shot 
eyes,  looked  uneasily  about  him  as  the  detail  halted, 
and,  springing  up  the  steps,  the  corporal  lightly 
touched  the  cowboy  on  the  shoulder.  Thorpe  had 
turned  back  as  though  to  hurl  some  parting  shot  or 
sarcasm  at  the  oppressor,  but  at  the  touch  of  the 
corporal's  hand  looked  coolly  around.  '  '  Well,  sonny, 
what  do  you  want?  " 

"Come  along,  Ben,"  said  the  corporal,  quietly, 
then  started  back  involuntarily  at  the  expression  of 
amaze  and  wratli  that  shot  suddenly  into  the  cow 
boy's  face. 

"What!  "  hissed  Thorpe,  striding  apace  forward. 
"You  here?  You  officiating  as  policeman  to  show 
me  off  Uncle  Sam's  jailyard.  You,  you  sneak  and 
scum!"  he  shouted,  shaking  a  fist  in  Graice's  sodden 
face.  "  You,  you  braggart  and  blackguard  —  you 
coward,  who  left  poor  Crawford's  wife  without  a 
defender;  you  cur  you  stole  the  last  cent  he  had,  and 


FORT    FRAYNE.  143 

then  betrayed  him  to  the  Indians;  you  liar  who  brag 
of  being  an  officer's  son,  and  dare  not  own  your  own 
name.  Stand  back ! "  he  fiercely  cried,  as  the 
corporal  once  more  strove  to  place  a  hand  upon  his 
shoulder.  "I've  no  quarrel  with  you,  Reddy,  or 
with  this  other  poor  devil,  who  can  only  do  as  he's 
ordered,  but  I'd  die  in  my  tracks  before  that  white- 
livered  hound  should  escort  me  off  this  post.  Out  of 
the  way!"  he  cried,  and  with  one  magnificent  bound 
reached  his  horse,  leaped  into  saddle,  and  dashed  a 
few  yards  away.  Then,  whirling  about,  he  swung 
his  hat  in  air.  "Good  night  to  you,  gentlemen. 
Merry  Christmas  to  you,  one  and  all.  You've  got 
one  of  those  bloody  murderers  here,  so  keep  him  if 
you  choose,  but  we'll  have  the  other  three  before  the 
sun  rises  in  spite  of  all  the  thugs  and  thieves  like 
that  fellow  you  can  muster  in  the  cavalry." 

And  with  a  parting  malediction  at  Graice  and  a 
lash  of  the  stinging  quirt,  he  whirled  his  bronco  and 
dashed  away  at  the  gallop. 

"Damn  that  fellow!"  said  Fentou.  "  I  like  him 
in  spite  of  all  his  deviltry.  There's  no  help  for  it 
gentlemen,  the  Twelfth  has  got  to  spend  its  Christ 
mas  standing  between  those  rousrh  riders  and  the 

o  o 

very  band  that  killed  our  colonel — three  long  years 
ago. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Just  as  first  call  for  tattoo  was  sounding  (no  one 
having  thought  to  tell  the  orderly  trumpeter  that, 
both  on  account  of  the  holiday  and  the  unexpected 
duty  for  the  garrison,  "the  rules  were  suspended,") 
a  long  column  of  cavalry  wound  away  through  the 
shimmer  of  the  snowy  moonlight  and  disappeared 
from  sight  along  the  flats  below  the  post.  Fenton 
and  Wayne,  with  four  of  the  six  troops,  had  ridden 
down  stream  for  a  ten  mile  march.  His  object  was 
to  bring  Big  Road,  with  his  little  village,  warriors, 
women,  children,  ponies,  dogs,  dirt,  and  all  within 
the  lines  of  the  reservation  of  Fort  Frayne.  Once 
there  even  cowboy  dare  not  molest  them,  and  uo 
self-appointed  sheriff  could  impose  his  authority. 
With  all  Thorpe's  bluster,  Fenton  felt  reasonably 
assured  that  even  in  so  turbulent  a  corner  of 
Wyoming,  the  hustlers  could  not  muster  in  force 
sufficient  to  warrant  an  attack  that  night.  Big 
Road's  braves  were  few  in  number,  but  they  were 
fighters  to  a  man.  Their  sins,  like  those  of  all  their 
tribe  and  kindred  tribes,  had  long  since  been  for 
given  them  by  Uncle  Sam,  and  it  was  not  for  his 
vassals  to  keep  up  the  feud.  Rare,  indeed,  are  the 
cases  when  the  soldier  has  long  cherished  a  grudge 
against  the  Indian.  The  Twelfth  had  fought  like 
devils  after  the  murder,  as  they  could  but  regard  it, 
of  their  beloved  colonel,  but  when  the  opposing 

144 


FORT    FRAYNE  145 

band  had  finally  surrendered  and  accepted  the  situa 
tion,  all  rancor  speedily  died  away. 

It  seemed  to  the  regiment,  therefore,  a  perfectly 
natural  and  obvious  thing  that  it  should  hasten  forth 
to  protect  this  little  remnant  from  the  revenge  of 
the  whites.  Laramie  Pete,  with  all  his  faults,  was  a 
frontier  hero  whose  popularity  was  second  only  to 
that  of  Thorpe,  and  at  the  latter's  call,  from  far  and 
near,  cowboy,  ranchman,  miner,  and  prospector, 
would  hasten  to  join  forces  under  his  leadership, 
and  in  twenty-four  hours  or  less  he  could  count  on 
five  hundred  determined  followers,  fearless  as  they 
were  reckless,  and  defiant  of  any  law  that  was  not  of 
their  own  devising. 

In  the  selection  of  his  troops  Fenton  had  been 
governed  by  the  time-honored  tenets  of  the  Twelfth. 
Leale's  men,  having  returned  but  a  month  before 
from  a  tour  of  detached  service,  escorting  a  Govern 
ment  survey  through  the  lands  of  the  Shoshones  far 
to  the  west,  were  therefore  the  ones  designated  to 
remain  in  charge  of  the  post,  being  supported  by 
what  was  left  of  the  so-called  Indian  Troop — Crow 
Knife's  company,  a  band  of  swarthy  cavalrymen  that 
took  to  Uncle  Sam's  clothing,  pay,  and  rations  with 
avidity,  and  even  to  his  drill  and  discipline,  so  long 
as  it  was  a  new  toy;  but  little  by  little  the  innate 
sloth  and  restlessness  of  the  savage  nature  prevailed, 
and,  one  after  another,  non-commissioned  officer  and 
private,  the  Sioux  soldiery  had  been  discharged  un 
til  nearly  all  were  gone.  Of  the  dozen  that  remained, 
however,  were  some  of  the  noblest  specimens  of  the 


146  FORT    FRAYNE. 

race,  men,  who,  like  Crow  Knife,  seemed  determined 
to  rise  above  the  apathy  of  the  past  into  some  posi 
tion  of  power  and  influence  for  their  people  in  the 
future,  and  it  was  almost  unspeakable  grief  to  these 
that  they  should  be  told  that  they  could  not  go  with 
the  command.  Yet  Fenton's  decision  was  a  wise  one. 
Ever  since  Big  Road's  messengers  (White  Wolf 
and  Pretty  Bear)  dashed  into  the  garrison  at  eight 
o'clock,  claiming  the  intercession  of  the  Great 
Father's  soldiers,  the  excitement  among  the  remnant 
of  the  Indian  Troop  was  furious.  For  a  mo 
ment  it  looked  as  though  they  might  cast  off  their 
uniforms  and,  turning  out  in  breechclout  and  paint 
and  feathers,  indulge  in  a  genuine  old-fashioned  war 
dance  on  the  parade.  They  were  wild  to  get  their 
arms  and  horses  and  to  gallop  to  the  succor  of  their 
kinsmen  down  the  valley,  but  the  lieutenant  com 
manding  was  a  cool  hand,  and,  aided  by  the  persua 
sive  talk  of  one  or  two  older  warriors,  measurably 
quieted  the  disturbance.  Then,  as  most  of  the  men 
on  guard  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  with  their  com 
rades,  seven  of  the  Indians  were  distributed  among 
the  three  reliefs,  and  Leale's  men  filled  all  the  other 
gaps.  It  was  about  9:30,  as  has  been  said,  when 
the  column  marched  away.  It  might  be  back  before 
Christmas  night.  It  might  not  be  back  for  a  week. 

O  O 

No  one  at  the  moment  could  say  because,  even  now, 
Big  Road  could  have  broken  camp  and  started  with 
his  whole  village  on  a  night  march  for  the  fastnesses 
of  the  mountains,  uncertain  what  f'ite  might  be  in 
store  for  them  if  he  remained.  With  the  column 


FORT    FRAYNE.  147 

went  White  Wolf  and  Bear,  the  former  generally 
believed  to  be  one  of  the  four  Indians  engaged  in 
the  fracas  that  wound  up  the  earthly  career  of  Lara- 
mie  Pete.  Ahead  of  the  column,  full  gallop,  with 
only  a  single  orderly,  but  with  instructions  to  tell 
Big  Road  and  his  people  to  stay  just  where  they 
were,  as  the  Great  Father  meant  to  come  to  their 
protection,  went  Lieutenant  Warren,  and  the  maddest, 
"miserablest"  man  in  all  the  garrison  was  Lieuten 
ant  Will  Farrar. 

When  a  young  fellow  is  full  of  soldierly  ambition, 
when  he  knows  he  is  master  of  his  work  and  is  eager 
for  an  opportunity  to  prove  it,  when  everybody  has 
been  treating  him  as  a  boy  and  he  knows  he  has  all 
the  ability  of  a  man,  when  his  sweetheart,  even,  has 
been  teasing  and  twitting  him  upon  his  apparent 
lack  of  consequence  in  the  eyes  of  the  garrison,  and 
he  is  therefore  all  the  more  mad  to  prove  at  any  haz 
ard  that  it  contains  no  more  daring  and  spirited  an 
officer,  such  an  opportunity  as  was  here  afforded 
Mr.  Farrar  was  not  to  be  lost.  He  had  implored 
Colonel  Fenton  to  let  him  be  the  bearer  of  the  mes 
sage,  and  was  broken-hearted  at  the  kind  but  firm 
refusal.  "The  Indian  is  peculiar,  Will,"  said  the 
old  soldier,  gently.  "  He  never  forgets  or  forgives. 
If  his  father  had  been  killed  as  yours  was  he  would 
hold  it  something  to  be  avenged,  although  resent 
ment  had  to  be  concealed,  perhaps,  for  years.  They 
know  you  are  his  son.  They  know  that  the  white 
men  are  leaguing  now  to  avenge  the  death  of  Pete. 
They  cannot  understand  such  a  thing  as  white 


148  FOET   FEAYNE. 

soldiers,  from  sheer  sense  of  duty  and  justice,  inter 
posing  against  their  own  kind  to  save  the  red  man. 
In  your  coming  they  would  read  only  treachery,  and 
would  argue  that  you  came  to  urge  their  remaining 
so  that  we  might  join  our  white  brethren  in  sur 
rounding  and  wiping  them  out  of  existence.  What 
ever  you  urged,  even  in  my  name,  they  would  be 
sure  not  to  do.  No,  I  must  send  Warren.  They 
know  him  well  and  trust  him."  But  Fenton  was 
thankful  he  had  so  good  an  excuse,  for  even  without 
it  he  could  not  have  brought  himself  to  send 
Marjorie  Farrar's  only  remaining  son  upon  a  mission 
that  might  prove  perilous — that  would  certainly 
seem  perilous  in  her  eyes. 

Hastening  to  the  chaplain's  as  soon  as  Thorpe  made 
his  melodramatic  exit,  Ormsby  was  met  at  the  door 
by  the  good  old  dominie  himself  and  begged  him  to 
say  to  Mrs.  Farrar  that  there  was  no  cause  for 
alarm:  there  had  been  a  fight  between  Indians  and 
cowboys  several  miles  away,  and  Colonel  Fenton 
had  decided  to  send  a  force  out  to  keep  the  peace. 
She  heard  his  voice,  and  faintly  but  eagerly  asked 
that  he  should  come  in.  It  was  Helen,  not  Ellis, 
who  bore  her  message,  Helen,  who  noted  with  com 
fort,  and  Ellis,  with  mixed  emotion,  that  the  mother 
had  learned  to  lean  upon  this  stanch  and  devoted 
friend.  Mrs.  Farrar  took  his  hand  and  looked  ap- 
pealingly  up  into  his  face  as  he  briefly  told  her  what 
had  happened  and  what  the  colonel  had  decided  to 
do. 

"Will  Willy  have  to  go?  "  was  her  one  question, 


FORT   FRAYNE.  149 

and,  ignorant  as  yet  that  Leale's  troop  would  be 
designated  to  remain,  Orirsby  gravely  answered  that 
he  presumed  the  entire  command  was  ordered  out. 
"But,"  he  added,  reassuringly,  "  that  fact  itself  is 
the  surest  guarantee  of  peace.  There  can  be  no 
further  disorder  in  face  of  so  strong  a  force." 

For  all  answer  slie  bowed  her  head  and  hid  it  in 
her  slender  white  hands.  No  wonder  it  seemed  as 
though  Christmas  ever  brought  its  tragedy  to  her  at 
old  Fort  Frayne. 

And  then  came  diversion  that  was  merciful.  There 
was  a  rush  of  light  footsteps,  a  flutter  of  silken 
skirts  on  the  porch  without,  a  bang  at  the  door  and 
in  came  Kitty,  flushed,  disheveled,  tearful,  indig 
nant. 

"What's  this  about  Willy's  going?"  she  de 
manded.  "  Where  is  he?  What  business  has  he — 
Why!  he  cannot  go,  Mrs.  Farrar.  lie's  engaged  to 
me  for  the  german  to-morrow  night." 

There  was  something  so  comical  in  her  utter  in 
ability  to  understand  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  to 
realize  that  a  soldier's  duty  far  outranked  even  so 
solemn  a  compact  as  an  engagement  to  dance  with 
his  sweetheart  that  even  Mrs.  Farrar  forgot  her  grief 
and  apprehension  for  the  moment  and  opened  her 
arms  to  the  imperious  little  lady  and  drew  her  to 
her  heart. 

"Ah,  Kitty,  you  have  the  same  lesson  to  learn 
that  I  had  long  years  ago  "  she  cried,  as  she  sought 
to  soothe  and  console  the  child,  but  Miss  Ormsby 
was  in  no  mood  for  petting.  She  was  up  in  arms. 


150  FORT    FRAYNli. 

She  was  being  defrauded.  Uncle  Fenton  had  no 
business  whatever  to  send  Willy  away  on  such  a 
quest  at  such  a  time.  It  was  worse  than  incon 
siderate.  It  was  outrageous,  and  then  Mrs.  Farrar's 
face  went  white  again  as  she  asked  what  Kitty 
meant,  and  then  Kitty's  nerve  gave  way  and  she 
buried  her  bonny  face  on  that  motherly  shoulder  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"  I  thought  you'd  heard,"  she  sobbed.  "They 
have  only  just  told  me.  Captain  Farwell  came 
home  to  change  his  dress,  and  I  asked  him  where 
Will  was,  and  he  said  he  left  him  offering  his 
services  to  Uncle  Fenton  to  ride  ahead  to  the 
Indians,  and  he  wanted  to  know  if  I  didn't  think 
Will  was  a  trump.  I  don't! — I  didn't! — I  think  it's 
simply  h-h-heartless  in  him!  " 

And  then  Mrs.  Farrar  raised  her  eyes  appealingly 
to  Ormsby,  and  he  went  without  a  word.  He  knew 
what  she  needed,  and  hastened  in  search  of  Will. 
He  found  him  at  Fenton's,  whither  he  had  accom 
panied  the  colonel,  and  where  he  was  still  pleading, 
and  tugging  at  his  tiny  mustache  and  tramping  up 
and  down  and  biting  his  nails,  while  Fenton,  in  the 
adjoining  room,  was  calmly  getting  out  of  his  dress 
clothes  and  into  winter  field  garb. 

"  Would  you  mind  dropping  this  and  going  down 
to  the  chaplain's  and  comforting  your  mother  and 
my  sister?  "  said  Ormsby,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  in 
a  word  edgewise. 

"Yes,  go,  Will,"  said  Fenton,  "and  tell  her 
that  there  is  nothing  whatever  in  this  affair  to  worry 


FORT    FRAYNE.  151 

about.  We're  merely  going  to  bring  old  Big  Road 
up  here  to  take  Christinas  dinner  at  the  fort.  There's 
no  chance  for  a  fight,  or  you  should  go  along.  No;  it's 
useless  arguing,  ray  boy.  I'd  do  anything  for  you 
that's  right,  but  this  is  absolutely  unreasonable  on 
your  part.  Xow  go  and  tell  those  two  blessed 
women  that  you're  to  remain  on  guard  over  them, 
and  they'll  rise  up  and  call  me  blessed — at  least 
they  ought  to. 

And  so,  finally,  Ormsby  got  the  peppery  young 
fellow  out  of  the  house  and  fairly  started,  Ormsby 
keeping  pace  with  him  as  he  strode  excitedly  from 
the  room. 

"  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me,  Will,"  said 
he  in  a  low  tone,  as  they  hastened  along.  "  I'm  go 
ing  with  the  command,  and  I  haven't  a  moment  to 
spare.  Give  this  note  to  Mrs.  Daunton  for  me  as 
soon  as  possible  after  you  reach  the  house.  May  I 
rely  upon  you?  " 

And  as  he  spoke  he  held  forth  an  envelope,  evi 
dently  snugly  filled,  and  Farrar  took  it  mechanically, 
and  without  reply.  The  boy  was  thinking  only  of 
his  own  disappointment.  "Do  you  understand, 
Will?  "  persisted  Ormsby.  "It  is  of  great  impor 
tance  that  she  should  have  it  before  ten  o'clock. 
You  won't  forget? "  and  wondering  now,  Farrar 
promised,  and  Ormsby  turned  abruptly  back. 

"  I  Avish  to  the  Lord  I  were  in  your  place,"  was 
poor  Will's  parting  shout,  as  the  guardsman  hurried 
back  to  dress  for  the  night  ride.  Already  the  four 
troops  had  marched  to  stables  and  were  saddling. 


152  FORT    FBAYNE. 

Already  there  were  sounds  of  excitement  over  across 
the  river,  and  much  scurrying  through  the  straggling 
street  of  the  cattle  town  of  well-mounted  ranchmen 
and  "cow  punchers."  Thorpe  Avas  as  good  as  his 
Avord.  He  Avas  rousing  the  county  with  a  ven 
geance,  hoping  to  ride  down  the  A'alley  in  strong 
force  within  the  hour  and  "wind  up  the  Avhole 
business"  before  the  cavalry  could  come  to  the 
rescue  of  the  offending  band.  Will  could  hear  the 
occasional  whoop  and  yell  that  came  ringing  OA'er  on 
the  still  night  air,  and  he  Avas  in  a  petulant  mood, 
bordering  on  exasperation,  Avhcn  admitted  at  the 
chaplain's  and  ushered  into  the  parlor,  where  Kitty 
still  lay,  clasped  in  the  mother's  arms. 

She  scrambled  to  her  feet  the  instant  he  entered 
and  began  an  energetic  outburst,  but  the  sight  of 
his  woe-begone  face  checked  her  suddenly.  Mrs. 
Farrar  read  instantly  the  cause  of  his  gloom,  and 
her  eyes  brightened  Avith  rejoicing. 

"  Willy,  my  boy,  then  you  don't  have  to  go?  " 

"Don't  Jiave  to  go!"  was  the  wrathful  ansAver. 
"  Don't  have  to  go!  I've  been  on  my  knees  to  that 
stony-hearted  old  rip  for  the  last  ten  minutes,  and 
he  Avon't  let  me  go!  " 

"  God  bless  him!  "  were  the  mother's  fervent 
Avords.  "lie  knew— he  Avell  kueAv  Avhut  it  AA'ould 
cost  me  to  have  my  only  boy  torn  from  me  at  this 
time,"  Avas  the  thought  that  flashed  through  her 
mind,  and  her  eyes  welled  Avith  grateful  tears, 
though  she  could  say  no  more.  It  was  Kitty  Avho 
restored  the  social  equilibrium.  "  I  won't  have  you 


FORT    FRAYXE.  153 

speak  of  Uncle  Fenton  in  that  disgraceful  way,  Mr. 
Farrar.  You  ought  to  be  thankful  you  don't  have 
to  go,  as  you  put  it.  Have  you  totally  forgotten 
our  engagement  for  to-morrow  night?  " 

"  Oh,  for  heaven's  sake,  Kitty!  What  is  that  at 
such  a  time  as  this?  There  won't  1>e  a  sign  of  a 
dance,  unless  they  all  get  hack  in  time,  and  I'd 
rather  be  dead  than  left  here  the  first  scout  the 
regiment  has  after  my  joining  it."  He  threw  him 
self  disgustedly  into  a  chair,  refusing  to  see  his 
mother's  outstretched  hand,  and  for  the  time  being 
absolutely  indifferent  to  Kitty's  reproaches.  It  was 
the  discovery  of  this  fact  that  taught  her  how 
thoroughly  in  earnest  he  was,  taught  her  that  there 
was  something  alive  in  his  heart  of  which  she  might 
well  be  jealous,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  the 
girl  stood  a  little  in  awe  of  him,  and,  relinquishing 
her  purpose  of  upbraiding,  she  turned  back,  baffled 
and  defeated,  and  took  refuge  by  the  mother's 
chair. 

"Tell  us  who  are  to  go,  Willy,"  said  Mrs. 
Farrar,  entreatingly. 

"  Everybody  but  me — and  Leale.  They'll  be  off 
in  ten  minutes,  too.  Even  Jack  Ormsby  goes,  and 
I'm  ordered — absolutely  ordered — to  stay  here,  as  if 
I  were  some — some  baby  in  arms,  unfit  to  do  duty 
with  my  fellows.  I'll  never  forgive  Fenton  as  long 
as  I  live." 

"  And  I'll  never  forget  it,"  murmured  the  mother, 
as  she  gently  checked  Kitty,  once  more  about  to 
burst  into  impetuous  speech.  "  I'm  sure  Colonel 


154  FORT   FRAYNE. 

Fenton  had  grave  and  good  reasons  for  keeping  you 
here,  my  son,  and  if  so  tried  and  brave  a  soldier  as 
Captain  Leale  can  remain  without  reproach,  surely 
yon  can." 

"There's  just  the  difference,"  answered  Will 
miserably.  "Leale  has  been  under  fire  and  on  try 
ing  duty  time  and  again.  His  reputation  was  as 
sured  long  years  ago.  I'm  treated  as  a  boy  by — by 
everybody  in  this  garrison,  high  or  low,  and  for 
bidden  a  chance  to  do  a  thing.  If  you  folks  want  to 
see  that  command  off  the  sooner  you  get  out  to  the 
bluff  the  better." 

"  But  you  are  going  to  take  us,  Willy,"  said  his 
sister,  sympathetically,  "Kitty  and  I,  at  least, 
wish  to  see  the  regiment.  Do  you  care  to  go, 
mother,  dear? "  she  asked  anxiously,  and,  then, 
crossing  over  to  her  mother's  side,  bent  down  and 
kissed  her,  but  the  question  was  no  sooner  asked 
than  she  would  gladly  have  recalled  it — "or  will 
you  come  home  now  with  me? "  she  hastened  to 
say. 

"I'll  take  mother  home,"  said  Will.  "Goon  if 
you  want  to  see  them  start,  I  don't.  That's  more 
than  I  could  possibly  stand.  The  chaplain  will  take 
you  gladly  enough." 

And  so  at  last  did  Miss  Orrnsby  begin  to  realize 
that  even  in  the  eyes  of  the  man  she  had  captivated 
she  was  for  the  time  beins  of  no  account. 

O 

It  was  one  of  Fenton's  fads  to  have  out  the  band 
when  the  regiment  or  any  considerable  detachment 
of  it  marched  away,  and  now,  even  at  night,  he  did 


PORT    FRAYNE.  155 

not  depart  from  his  practice.  The  chaplain  had 
opened  the  door  to  note  the  progress  of  the  prep 
arations  across  the  parade.  Orderlies  with  the 
horses  of  the  officers  were  trotting  past.  The  non 
commissioned  staff  were  already  mounting  at  the  ad 
jutant's  office,  and  over  at  the  band  barracks  the  gray 
chargers,  the  music  stools  of  the  musicians,  were  be 
ing  led  into  the  line.  A  mounted  band  was  something 
that  Kitty  had  never  seen,  and  curiosity  and  coquetry 
combined,  led  her  to  lend  her  ear  to  the  chaplain's  sug 
gestion  that  she  should  come  out  and  see  the  column 
ride  away  and  wave  good-bye  to  her  admirers  among 
the  subalterns.  If  Will  persisted  in  his  ill  temper 
there  was  no  sense  in  staying  there,  and  perhaps  the 
quickest  way  to  bring  him  to  terms  was  to  manifest 
interest  in  his  fellows.  So,  leaving  him  to  the 
ministrations  of  his  mother,  she  danced  away  to  the 
front  door,  Ellis  promptly  following.  The  night 
was  still  and  beautiful,  softly  hazy,  and  not  very 
cold,  and  the  scene  across  the  snow-covered  parade 
was  full  of  life  and  animation.  Lights  were  dancing 
to  and  fro  among  the  company  quarters.  Two  of 
the  designated  troops  had  already  marched  up  from 
the  stables,  formed  line  in  front  of  their  barracks, 
and  dismounting,  were  awaiting  the  sounding  of  ad 
jutant's  call  and  the  formation  of  the  squadron. 
Officers  were  mounting  every  moment  along  the  row 
and  trotting  out  to  join  their  commands,  and 
presently,  from  the  colonel's  big  house  on  the  edge 
of  the  bluff  came  three  horsemen  clad  in  heavy 
winter  field  garb,  and  even  in  the  dim  light  there 


156  FORT   FRAYNE. 

was  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  Fenton's  soldierly 
form.  These  were  joined  by  the  adjutant  as  they 
rode  out  upon  the  parade,  and  then  one  of  the 
group  came  jogging  over  towards  the  chaplain, 
followed  by  an  attendant  orderly.  It  was  Jack 
Ormsby,  and  Kitty  fluttered  down  to  the  gate  to 
meet  him. 

"You  and  Aunt  Lucretia  Avill  have  to  keep  house 
by  yourselves  to-night,  little  sister,"  said  he  laugh 
ingly,  as  he  bent  to  kiss  her  good-bye.  "Corporal 
Rorke  is  to  sleep  at  the  house  so  that  you  will  not 
lack  for  guards.  Where's  Will?  " 

"  He's  with  his  mother  in  the  parlor,  and  just  too 
miserable  for  anything,"  said  Kitty,  who,  now  that 
she  could  sec  for  herself  the  preparation  for  a  march, 
began  to  feel  far  more  sympathy  for  her  lover,  if  not 
actually  to  wish  that  she  were  a  man  and  could  go 
too.  Ellis,  quick  to  notice  Ormsby's  coming,  had 
slipped  back  within  the  hall  and  partially  closed  the 
door.  Glancing  over  her  shoulder  she  could  see  that 
her  mother  had  left  her  reclining  chair  and  was  bend 
ing  fondly  over  Will, smoothing  his  tumbled  hair  and 
striving  to  soothe  and  comfort  him,  but  it  was  evi 
dent  that  Will  was  sorely  hurt,  for  he  turned  away 
in  irrepressible  chagrin  and  distress  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands.  Helen  Daunton,  forgetful  for 
the  moment  of  her  own  bitter  trouble,  had  sought  to 
aid  her  friend  in  consoling  the  boy,  but  it  washer 
first  experience  in  such  a  case.  She  had  never  real 
ized  what  it  meant  to  a  proud  and  ambitious  young 
soldier  to  be  held  in  garrison  when  his  comrades 


PORT   FRAYNE.  157 

were  being  sent, to  the  field;  and  finding  presently  that 
she  could  be  of  little  aid,  she  drew  away  toward  the 
window  to  join  the  chaplain  and  his  wife,  who  were 
gazing  out  upon  the  parade,  when  the  stirring  notes 
of  adjutant's  call  came  trilling  through  the  hazy 
moonlight,  and  with  a  groan  that  seemed  to  rise  from 
the  depths  of  his  heart,  poor  Will  threw  himself  face 
downward  upon  the  sofa,  utterly  refusing  to  be  com 
forted. 

"Come,"  said  the  chaplain  in  a  low  tone,  "They 
will  be  better  left  to  themselves.  Let  us  go  out  and 
see  the  troops  form  line,"  and  hastily  quitting  the 
parlor  they  came  suddenly  upon  Ellis  lingering  at 
the  outer  door. 

"Mr.  Ormsby  was  saying  good-bye  to  Kitty," 
she  nervously  explained,  "  and  I  remained  here  for  a 
moment.  He  is  still  there. " 

Yes,  still  there,  although  he  had  said  adieu  to  his 
little  sister  and  the  squadron  was  rapidly  forming  on 
the  parade.  Still  there,  and  looking  now  and  then 
beyond  Kitty's  pretty,  pathetic  little  face,  clouded 
with  a  trouble  altogether  new  to  it.  Still  there,  and 
louoino-  for  a  sio;ht  of  the  face  he  loved  as  he  did  no 

O         O  ~ 

other,  despite  all  its  coldness  and  aversion.  Then 
they  came  hurrying  forth — the  old  dominie  and  his 
faithful  helpmeet,  the  two  young  and  beautiful 
women — and  at  sight  of  them  Ormsby  suddenly  dis 
mounted,  and  passing  the  reins  to  his  orderly,  ran 
nimbly  up  the  steps  and  extended  his  hand,  "  Good 
night,  chaplain — Good  night,  Mrs.  Ransom.  We 
count  on  eating  our  Christmas  dinner  here,  despite 


158  FORT    FRAYXE. 

the  night  march.  Good  night,  Miss  Farrar,"  he 
added,  gravely,  gently.  "We  still  hope  to  be  here 
to  wish  you  Merry  Christmas.  Please  extend  my 
sympathies  to  Will.  I  know  how  hard  it  is  for  him 
to  stay.  Good  night,  Mrs.  F —  -Mrs.  Daunton," 
he  stumbled  on,  and  extended  to  her  the  hand  which 
he  had  withheld  from  Ellis.  "  Oh,  pardon  me.  Did 
Farrar  give  you  a  note  I  intrusted  to  him  for  you?  " 

"  Not  yet,  Mr.  Ormsby.     He  has   hardly  thought 
of  anything  but  his  grief  at  being  retained  here." 

"Well,  ask  him  for  it  before  ten  o'clock.  It"- 
and  he  was  halting  painfully  now,  for  Ellis,  with 
drawing  a  pace  from  the  group,  was  gazing  straight 
into  his  face — "it — it  explains  itself.  You'll  under 
stand  it.  Good  night,  good  night,  all.  I  must 
hurry."  And  with  that  he  ran  down  the  steps  and 
out  of  the  gate,  mounted  quickly,  and  without  a 
backward  glance  rode  quickly  away  to  take  his  place 
by  the  colonel's  side.  Another  moment,  and  the 
adjutant,  galloping  out  in  front  of  the  long  line  of 
horses,  had  presented  the  squadron  to  Major  Wayne, 
and  that  distinguished  officer,  unexpectedly  awake  and 
lively,  lost  no  time  in  preliminaries,  but  broke  his 
command  at  once  into  column  of  fours,  and  with  the 
band  playing  its  joyous  march  music,  and  with  old 
Feu  ton  himself  in  the  lead,  away  they  went  down 
the  winding  road  to  the  flats  to  the  east.  Once  out 
of  the  garrison,  the  band  wheeled  out  of  column  and 
played  the  troopers  by,  then  trotted  back  to  unsaddle 
for  the  night.  Men,  women  and  children,  the  popu 
lace  of  Fort  Frayne,  gathered  along  the  eastern  edge 


FORT    FRAYXE.  159 

of  the  plateau,  and  silently,  and  in  not  a  few  cases, 
tearfully,  watched  the  column  out  of  sight  in  the 
dim,  ghostly  light,  and  then  little  Trumpeter  Mei- 
necke  came  out  from  the  guardhouse  and  trilled  the 
martial  curfew  that  sent  them  shivering  homeward — 
an  ominous  Christmas  eve  tattoo. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TEN  o'clock  and  no  one  yet  came  riding  back 
from  the  column  with  later  news.  Almost  as  soon 
as  the  command  had  disappeared  from  view  Mrs. 
Farrar  had  gone  home,  Helen,  Ellis,  Kitty  and 
Will  in  close  attendance,  and  there  they  were  pres 
ently  joined  by  Aunt  Lucretia,  whose  volubility 
even  calamity  seemed  powerless  to  check,  and 
then  to  the  relief  of  all  the  women,  Captain  Leale. 
knocked  and  was  promptly  admitted. 

"  I  am  in  search  of  my  right-hand  man,"  said  he, 
with  his  bright,  cordial  smile.  "They  tell  me  he  is 
playing  Achilles  and  sulking  in  his  tent,  but  I  have 
work  for  him  to  do, "  and  then  once  more  did  Kitty 
look  remonstrance,  for  she  could  form  no  idea  of 
work  for  him  that  did  not  involve  deprivation  for 
her. 

"You  are  not  going  to  send  Mr.  Farrar  away  after 
all,"  she  began,  but  Leale  laughingly  checked  her. 

"Far  from  it,"  said  he.  "I  need  him  at  the 
guardhouse,  and  mean  to  put  him  in  charge  of  the 
prisoners  when  they  come  in.  The  chances  are  that 
the  colonel  will  have  to  arrest  not  a  fewT  of  those  fel 
lows,  and  he'll  do  it  in  the  interest  of  peace  and  good 
order,  despite  the  fact  that  he  lias  no  warrant.  Are 
you  ready,  sir?" 

"I'm  ready  and  willing  to  do  any  duty,  Captain 

Leale, "  answered  Will,  ruefully.      "But  I    was  the 

ico 


FORT    FRAYXE.  1C1 

first  to  volunteer  for  that  courier  ride  to  Big  Road, 
and  I  think  the  colonel  ought  to  have  given  it  to  me. 
I'll  be  officer  of  the  guard  to-morrow,  anyhow,  and 
would  just  as  lief  begin  now.  Shall  I  come  at  once?" 

"Yes,  the  second  relief  goes  on  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  you  would  better  inspect  them.  Everything  is 
started  right.  You  have  a  capital  sergeant  of  the 
guard.  I  want  the  sentries  on  the  north  and 
east  bluffs  instructed  to  listen  for  all  sounds  from 
the  east,  and  to  keep  a  close  watch  on  that  plant 
of  Bunco  Jim's.  Watch  every  movement  in  that 
rowdy  town  over  yonder,  though  I  believe  most  of 
the  populace  has  already  ridden  away  at  the  bidding 
of  the  so-called  cowboy  king." 

Will  bent  over  and  kissed  his  mother's  forehead, 
"I'll  get  my  sword  and  go  at  once,"  said  he,  "and 
I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I've  made  the  rounds  of  the 
second  relief.  I  suppose  nobody  here  means  to  turn 
in  for  an  hour  yet.  We  ought  to  have  news  of  some 
kind  before  midnight."  With  that  he  quickly  left 
the  little  parlor,  and  vaulting  the  low  fence,  let  him 
self  in  at  his  own  door  in  the  adjoining  bachelor 
roost.  Mrs.  Daunton,  who  had  been  occupying  her 
self  close  to  Mrs.  Farrar,  presently  arose  and  stepped 
into  the 'hall  way,  took  a  heavy  wrap  and  noiselessly 
quitted  the  house.  Surprised,  Captain  Leale  looked 
about  him  for  an  explanation.  Ellis  had  drawn  aside 
the  curtain,  and  with  pale,  set  face,  was  gazing 
fixedly  out  upon  the  parade.  Kitty  looked  bewildered. 
It  was  Mrs.  Farrar  who  spoke 

"This  has   been  a  trying  day  for  Helen.     She   is 


162  FORT    FEAYNE. 

not  strong,  I  fear,  and  to-night  she  is  so  nervous  and 
unstrung  that  she  seems  to  shrink  from  company  or 
conversation.  I  have  never  known  her  so  distracted.  I 
fancy  she  wants  to  be  alone  a  few  minutes  and  to  take 
the  fresli  air  on  the  gallery."  Ellis  moved  impa 
tiently,  but  said  not  a  word.  She  could  see  that  so  far 
from  having  stopped  on  the  gallery,  Helen  Daunton 
had  hastened  through  the  gate,  and,  turning  to  Will's 
quarters  next  door,  was  there  awaiting  his  reappear 
ance.  The  boy  came  out  in  a  moment,  his  sword  at 
his  side,  and  wrapping  his  cloak  about  him,  stopped 
short  in  evident  surprise  at  sight  of  Mrs.  Daunton. 
Ellis  well  understood  the  purport  of  the  conversation 
that  ensued,  though  she  could  hear  no  word.  Will 
searched  one  pocket  after  another,  then  ran  back  into 
the  house,  came  forth  again  in  less  than  a  minute, 
handed  a  square  white  envelope  to  Mrs.  Daunton, 
and,  raising  his  forage  cap  in  farewell,  hastened  away 
across  the  parade.  Ashamed  of  her  espionage,  yet 
fascinated,  Ellis  lingered  at  the  window  and  saw 
Helen  tear  open  the  envelope,  and  draw  forth  a  little 
packet  or  roll,  which  she  closely  inspected  and  rapidly 
counted  over.  Money!  Treasury  notes  beyond  ques 
tion!  Money,  and  paid  her  by  Jack  Ormsby!  Ellis 
dropped  the  curtain  and  turned  away.  She  cared  to 
see  no  more. 

Over  at  the  guardhouse  the  second  relief  was  being 
formed  as  Farrar  reached  the  spot — seven  soldiers  in 
their  fur  caps  and  gloves  and  heavy  winter  overcoats 
and  arctics.  The  corporal  had  just  reported  them 
all  present,  and  the  lieutenant  quickly  yet  closely  in- 


PORT   FRAYNE.  163 

spected  their  equipment,  then  stepped  to  the  front 
again. 

"In  addition  to  the  usual  orders,"  said  he, 
"Numbers  Six  and  Seven  are  cautioned  to  keep  a 
sharp  lookout  and  to  listen  attentively  for  anything 
at  the  eastward.  In  the  event  of  any  unusual  sight 
or  sound,  call  for  the  corporal  at  once.  Who  is  Num 
ber  Five?  " 

"Graice,  sir,"  said  the  corporal. 

The  young  officer's  face  darkened  a  bit.  He  had 
no  trust  in  the  man  whatever  and  knew  well  his  evil 
reputation.  "Graice,"  said  he,  "  you  have  double 
functions  to-night.  You  have  not  only  the  same 
orders  as  Six  and  Seven,  but  the  commanding  officer 
directs  that  you  keep  a  special  watch  over  the  settle 
ment  across  the  river,  particularly  of  the  plant  of 
Bunco  Jim.  I  believe  you  know  it." 

"There  are  plenty  of  others  that  know  it  as  well," 
was  the  surly  and  unexpected  answer. 

"That  will  do,  sir,"  Avas  the  stern  rejoinder. 
"You  were  asked  no  questions,  and  will  keep  silent 
until  you  are.  Do  you  understand  your  instructions?  " 

"I  am  not  deaf,"  was  the  sullen  response. 

"Answer  my  question,  Graice,"  said  Will,  ting 
ling  with  indignation,  but  keeping  his  temper.  There 
was  a  moment's  silence,  then — 

"I  'spose  I  do." 

"There  appears  to  be  some  doubt,  however,"  said 
Farrar,  coolly.  "Post  your  relief,  corporal,  and  we 
will  look  further  after  Number  Five.  Has  that  man 


164  FOKT   FRATNE. 

been  drinking  again?  "  he  turned  and  asked  the  silent 
sergeant,  as  the  relief  marched  away. 

"It's  hard  to  say,  sir.  He's  one  of  those  steady 
soakers.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  him  when  he 
hadn't  been  drinking  more  or  less.  I  think  he  has 
been  drinking  all  day,  but  he  knows  what  he's  doing, 
and  is  as  sober  as  he  is  at  any  other  time." 

Farrar  gazed  doubtfully  at  the  relief  as  it  trudged 
away  through  the  misty  moonlight;  shook  his  head 
in  some  dissatisfaction,  then  turned  in  at  the  door 
way  of  the  tower. 

"  I  will  look  over  the  guardroom  and  cells,"  said 
he,  "and  visit  sentries  later,"  and,  taking  up  his 
lantern,  the  sergeant  followed. 

A  big  stove  burned  brightly  in  the  center  of  the 
guardroom,  and  the  men  of  the  third  relief,  sitting 
or  sprawling  about,  sprang  up  and  stood  to  attention 
as  the  officer  looked  in.  Another  stove,  the  mate  to 
it,  was  burning  almost  at  red  heat  in  the  general 
prison  room,  across  the  hall.  Here  were  confined 
some  half  dozen  poor  devils,  the  scapegraces  of  the 
command;  some  drink-sodden  and  stupid,  others 
merely  reckless  and  "ne'er  do  weel."  Following 
the  spirit  of  holiday  decoration,  and  never  expecting 
the  visit  of  an  officer  that  night,  one  of  the  number, 
with  a  fine  sense  of  humor,  had  induced  a  comrade  to 
fetch  him  a  parcel  from  the  barracks,  and  now  on 
the  bare  wooden  wall  opposite  the  entrance  there 
hung  a  chromo  with  a  flowery  border  and  the  pious 
sentiment,  "God  bless  our  happy  home."  Will's 
eye  caught  it  at  the  instant.  "  Take  that  down!  "  said 


FORT    FRAYNE.  165 

he,  with  manifest  indignation.  "  There  is  to  be  no 
burlesque  business  here  to-night."  There  was  a 
faint  odor  of  dead  tobacco  about  the  grimy  room. 
"You'll  have  to  search  those  men  and  that  room," 
said  he  to  the  sergeant,  as  they  turned  away.  "  There 
must  be  neither  pipes,  matches  nor  anything  with 
which  they  can  start  a  fire.  If  this  old  rookery  ever 
flames  it  will  go  like  a  flash.  Do  it  at  once!  Any 
men  in  the  cells?  " 

"None,  sir,  and  none  in  the  outer  prison  room." 

"Keep  the  other  empty,  then.  The  chances  are 
it'll  be  filled  to-morrow  when  the  column  gets  back. 
Remember  the  orders  about  fire." 

"No  man's  like  to  forget  that,  lieutenant,  with 
the  powder  stored  there  on  the  second  floor." 

"  I  know,"  answered  Will,  gravely.  "  How  much 
powder  is  there  there?  " 

"  Only  a  dozen  cartridges  for  the  reveille  gun,  sir, 
but  that's  enough  to  blow  the  place  into  flinders. " 

"  There's  no  one  in  the  light  prison  room  on  that 
floor?  " 

' '  No  one,  sir.  That  floor  is  empty.  There's  no 
fire  up  there  at  all." 

Presently  the  tramp,  tramp  of  martial  feet  was 
heard  on  the  crunching  snow,  and  officer  and  ser 
geant  both  stepped  forth  to  receive  the  relief  of 
sentries  just  taken  off  post.  One  of  them  was  Crow 
Knife.  lie  gravely  saluted  as  he  passed  his  officer, 
and  placed  his  carbine  in  the  arm  rack,  then  went 
out  on  the  east  side  of  the  little  building  and  stood 


166  FORT    FRAYNE. 

there,  silent,  listening  for  sounds  from  the  distant 
east. 

"  May  I  have  the  lieutenant's  permission  to  go  out 
on  the  bluff  awhile?  "  he  asked,  as  Farrar  came  by 
him.  "  I  can  hear  the  call  of  the  corporal  if  we  are 
wanted  for  anything,  and  I  am  very  anxious."  And 
Will,  who  at  first  would  have  said  no,  saw  the 
anxiety  in  the  Indian's  face  and  consented. 

"Crow  is  strangely  superstitious,"  said  the  ser 
geant,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "He  has  been  like 
that  ever  since  he  came  on  guard.  He  says  the 
ghost  dogs  were  howling  the  death  song  last  night, 
and  that  somebody's  to  get  his  death  blow  to-night. 
We  can't  laugh  him  out  of  it. " 

Will  turned  away  and  watched  the  rapidly-re 
treating  form,  growing  dimmer  every  second.  "  I 
suppose  he  dreads  trouble  for  his  people,  and  this 
row  makes  him  nervous,"  said  he.  "I'm  going  the 
rounds  now,  sergeant,  and  Avill  leave  you  here  in 
charge." 

"  It  is  just  10:30  now,  sir.     Shall  we  call  off?  " 

"Ay,  ay,  let  it  go,"  was  the  answer,  as  the 
young  fellow  stalked  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
stables.  It  was  his  purpose  to  take  the  sentry  posts 
in  inverse  order,  so  as  to  visit  first  those  on  the  east 
ern  flank. 

Without  a  break  the  watch-cry  went  from  man  to 
man,  Number  Five  shouting  a  gruff,  stentorian,  "All's 
well,"  that  again  directed  the  attention  of  the  officer  of 
the  guard  to  his  probable  condition.  The  last  sentry 
had  called  off  and  Number  One  had  given,  loud  and 


FORT    FRAYXE.  167 

prolonged,  the  final  assurance  that  all  along  the  chain 
was  peace  and  security  before  Will  reached  the  bot 
tom  of  the  slope  and  began  his  examination  of  the 
stables  and  corrals.  The  last  thing  he  saw  as  he  cast 
a  backward  glance  northward  along  the  snowy  slope 
that  terminated  the  plateau  on  its  eastern  side,  was 
the  solitary  figure  of  Crow  Knife  standing  mute,  mo 
tionless  and  attentive,  just  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
post  of  sentry  on  Number  Six. 

He  was  delayed  unexpectedly  among  the  stables, 
for  one  of  the  orderlies,  in  the  absence  of  his  troop 
and  officers,  had  gone  visiting  among  his  associates 
in  the  adjoining  building,  and  one  or  two  spare 
horses  were  loose  and  roaming  about  the  gangway. 
The  next  thing  he  heard  of  his  sentries  there  were 
excited  shouts  for  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  and 
hastening  out  into  the  night  to  ascertain  the  cause, 
he  nearly  collided  with  little  Meinecke,  the  trum 
peter. 

"  Lieutenant,''  cried  the  boy,  breathlessly,  "Crow 
Knife's  killed,  sir.  Stabbed  to  death!  " 

"  My  God!  "  moaned  Will,  as  he  hastened  up  the 
slope.  "There's  a  curse  on  Christrnastide  at  old 
Fort  Frayne." 

When  ten, — twenty  minutes  had  passed  away  and 
Helen  Daunton  failed  to  return,  Mrs.  Farrar  had  be 
come  anxious  and  ill  at  ease.  Leale,  too,  had  been 
listening  eagerly  for  her  step  on  the  porch  without, 
and,  unable  to  control  his  longing  to  see  and  speak 
with  her,  despite  her  palpable  efforts  to  avoid  him,  he 
had  early  taken  his  leave  and  gone  forth  in  search. 


168  FORT    FRAYNE. 

Ellis,  slipping  from  the  parlor  into  the  dining-room, 
had  thence  managed  to  go  to  her  own  little  chamber, 
for  a  moment  or  two  to  herself.  Whatever  doubt 
remained  as  to  the  justice  of  her  suspicions  up  to 
dinner  time  that  evening,  it  was  banished  now  and 

O  ' 

her  heart  was  hard  against  Ormsby  that  he  should 
have  so  braved  and  deceived  her.  Looking  out  from 
her  window  she  could  see  much  of  the  walk  in  front 
of  Officers'  Row,  but  not  a  sign  of  Helen  Daunton. 
The  clouds  had  thickened,  the  moonlight  had  grown 
dimmer  all  of  a  sudden.  Once  more  the  snow  was 
sifting  down.  She  could  not  dream  where  Helen 
had  gone. 

It  was  a  desperate  woman  who  stole  silently  out 
of  the  little  army  home  and  intercepted  Lieutenant 
Farrar  at  the  gate.  In  few  words  she  made  known 
her  errand  and  asked  for  the  note  Mr.  Ormsby  had 
placed  in  his  hand,  and  Will  for  the  first  time  remem 
bered  it.  He  had  stowed  it  in  the  pocket  of  the  over 
coat  he  was  wearing  as  he  returned  with  Ormsby 
from  the  colonel's,  and  was  compelled  to  run  back 
indoors  again  to  find  it.  Absorbed  though  he  was 

o  c? 

in  his  own  trouble,  Will  could  not  but  remark  how 
strange  it  seemed  that  his  mother's  companion  should 
be  seeking,  and  Ormsby  sending,  those  mysterious 
notes  at  night.  He  made  such  explanation  and  ex 
cuse  as  he  could,  however,  then  hurried  away.  With 
nervous  fingers  Helen  counted  over  the  money  in  the 
envelope.  Two  hundred  dollars!  Ormsby  was  in 
deed  generous.  Then  desperate,  determined. thought 
less  of  the  military  crime  she  was  about  to  urge  upon 


FORT    FKAYXE  109 

her  husband,  thinking  only  of  the  dreadful  menace 
his  presence  was  to  the  friends  who  had  harbored 
and  sheltered  her,  she  sped  away  up  the  row,  and 
turning  through  the  broad  open  space  near  the  col 
onel's  quarters,  came  out  upon  the  snow-covered 
brow  of  the  heights  overhanging  the  silent,ice-bound 
stream;  and  there,  barely  a  hundred  feet  away,  tlie 
dim  outlines  of  that  huge,  hulking  figure  could  be 
seen.  She  knew  it  only  too  well — knew  it  at  a 
glance.  Graice  was  standing  on  post  at  the  moment, 
listening,  apparently,  to  some  faint,  distant  sounds 
of  maudlin  revelry  that  rose  from  the  unhallowed 
walls  of  Bunco  Jim's,  beyond  the  Platte.  "With  one 
brief  muttered  prayer  to  heaven  for  guidance  and 
strength,  she  sped  across  the  snowy  expanse  and  was 
at  his  side  before  he  could  either  halt  or  challenge. 
He  never  had  time  to  speak  before  impetuously  she 
began: 

"  Royle  Farrar,  I  must  speak  to  you  here  and  now. 
If  your  being  here  meant  only  danger  and  harm  to 
me,  you  might  do  your  worst  and  I  would  bear  it. 
You  are  under  a  false  name.  Your  life  has  so 
changed  you  that  as  yet  no  one  has  recognized 
you,  but  it  cannot  last,  and  then  there  will 
be  bitter  shame  and,  perhaps,  death  that  would 
lie  at  your  door — your  mother's;  your  poor,  gentle 
mother,  Royle,  who  holds  her  life  only  through  the 
belief  that  you  are  no  longer  alive  to  bring  further 
disgrace  to  your  father's  name. " 

But  now  he  had  partially  recovered  himself  and 
angrily  interrupted:  "Is  it  my  fault  I'm  here? 


170  FORT    FRAYNE. 

Did  I  suppose  of  all  cursed  places  they'd  send  me  to 
it  would  be  here,  to  be  ordered  about  by  my  cub  of 
a  brother,  to  see  my  noble  captain  making  love  to 
my-" 

"  You  dare  not  say  it! "  she  cried. 

"You've  had  some  experience  of  what  I  dare,  my 
lady,  and  one  thing  I  dare  and  mean  to  do  is  to 
stick  it  out  right  here  and  take  my  chances  at  Frayne. 
There's  no  other  post  where  I'd  find  so  many  friends 
at  court  if  things  go  wrong." 

"  You  shall  not  stay  here  if  I  have  to  buy  you  to 
go,"  she  cried,  but  she  shrank  even  as  she  spoke,  as 
though  dreading  a  blow,  for,  with  uplifted  hand 
he  sprang  to  her  side;  then  roughly,  savagely,  seized 
her  slender  wrist. 

"Who  are  you  to  pose  as  guardian  angel  of  the 
Farrars?  Who  a^e  you  to  say  shall  to  me?  Do  you 
reali/.e,  my  love,  that  your  place  in  the  army  is  not 
in  officers'  quarters,  but  down  yonder  in  Laundresses' 
Alley?  By  the  Lord!  I've  a  mind — " 

But  here  a  dark  shadow  fell  between  him  and  the 
slender  writhing  object  of  his  brutal  rage;  an  iron 
grasp  was  laid  in  turn  on  the  hand  that  so  cruelly 
crushed  the  white  wrist.  A  deep  voice,  eloquent 
with  wrath,  controlled,  yet  boiling,  seemed  to  ring 
in  his  ears  the  two  words,  "Let  go!"  and  then,  re 
leasing  perforce  his  hold  on  the  shrinking,  startled 
woman,  Graice  writhed  in  furious  effort  to  free  him 
self  from  the  clinch  of  Malcolm  Leale,  and  writhed 
in  vain. 


FORT    FRAYXE.  171 

"You've  the  devil's  own  grip,"  he  savagely  hissed 
through  his  grinding  teeth. 

"I've  a  grip,  my  man,  that  won't  loosen  till  you 
are  past  doing  further  mischief  here,"  was  the  stern, 
relentless  answer.  Then  uplifting  his  voice,  Leale 
shouted  for  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  and  at  the  in 
stant  the  cry  went  echoing  over  the  posts  of  Six  and 
Seven.  The  sentry  still  writhed  in  impotent  rage. 
Finding  his  struggles  futile,  he  once  more  lashed 
with  his  tongue. 

''Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,  captain.  There  are 
some  kinds  of  a  hold  even  your  grip  can't  loosen." 

"  No  insolence!  You  go  from  here  to  the  guard 
house,  as  it  is." 

"Damn  the  guardhouse  and  you,  too!"  raged 
the  soldier,  hurling  down  his  carbine.  "If  I'm 
to  spend  Christmas  in  limbo,  I'm  cursed  if  you 
shall  spend  it  making  love  to  my —  '  and  here, 
with  a  tigerlike  bound,  his  free  hand  brandishing  a 
glistening  knife,  he  lunged  at  the  officer's  throat.  A 
lithe  form  had  come  leaping  like  a  panther  up  the 
path,  and  even  before  Helen's  cry  had  died  away, 
Crow  Knife  had  hurled  himself  between  the  men, 
and  the  shining  blade  was  buried  out  of  sight.  There 
was  a  moment  of  furious  struggle,  and  then  the  sen 
try  lay  felled  like  an  ox  in  his  tracks  and  Leale's  foot 
was  at  his  throat.  The  knife,  blood-stained,  had 
dropped  in  the  snow.  The  Indian,  his  hand  pressed 
to  his  side,  was  swaying  slowly  back,  as  the  sergeant 
of  the  guard,  with  a  brace  of  men,  came  running  to 
the  spot. 


172  FORT    FRAYNE. 

"Take  this  man  to  the  guardhouse!"  was  the  brief, 
stern  order,  as  they  lifted  Graice,  stunned  and  sod 
den,  to  his  feet.  Then  the  captain  turned  to  Crow 
Knife.  "Did  that  crazy  brute  strike  you?  Are  you 
hurt?  "  he  asked,  in  deep  concern. 

"Captain,"  said  the  Indian,  slowly.  "I  believe 
I'm  killed." 

Leale  sprang  to  support  him.  Other  men,  running 
to  the  scene,  linked  their  hands  and  made  a  chair  and 
raised  the  poor  fellow  from  the  ground.  "Carry 
him  gently  to  the  hospital,  lads.  I'll  be  with  you  in 
a  moment,"  said  Leale,  and  then  he  turned  to  where, 
trembling,  terrified,  Helen  Daunton  still  stood  as 
though  powerless  to  move. 

"Helen — Mrs.  Daunton!  First  let  me  see  you 
home.  I  ask  no  confidence,  no  explanation,  but  this 
is  something  in  which  I  must  help  you.  I  have 
guessed  the  truth,  have  I  not?  That  man  is  your 
brother?" 

"My  brother,  Captain  Leale?  God  pity  me — that 
man  is  my  husband!  " 

For  a  moment  not  another  word  was  spoken. 
Leale  had  recoiled — staggered — as  though  struck  a 
mortal  blow.  Then,  in  hoarse  whisper,  so  choked 
and  broken  seemed  his  voice: — 

"Your  husband!  Your  husband,  Helen?  Oh,  my 
God!  And  I  had  thought  you  free  to  be  loved,  as  I 
have  learned — as  you  have  taught  me — to  love  you. " 

"Captain  Leale!  "  she  cried.  "  In  pity  say  you 
do  not  believe  that.  Oh,  hear  me!  Do  not  turn  from 
me,"  she  implored,  for  in  his  misery  he  had  averted 


FORT    FRAYXE.  173 

his  face.  "You  shall  not  think  me  so  vile,"  she 
went  on,  desperately.  "I  never  knew  until  to-day 
that  you  had  learned  to — care  for  me.  I  thought  all 
that  had  gone  with  my  youth — oh,  so  long  ago!  I 
only  asked  of  life  a  place  where  I  could  be  useful 
and  safe,  and  where,  by  and  by,  perhaps  I  could  for 
get.  I  have  seemed  to  myself  so  old  and  dull  and 
sad,  so  different  from  the  women  men  love  that  I 
never  dreamed  it  my  duty  to  say  I  was  not  free.  Oh, 
I  thought  you  were  my  friend.  My  heart  has  been 
so  heavy  and  so  numbed  I  have  thought  it  dead  since 
that  Christmas  Eve,  four  years  ago.  Ah,  let  me  tell 
it  to  you  and  you  will  understand.  Four  years  ago 
this  night  my  little  sick  baby  woke  and  wailed  with 
pain.  That  man — my  husband — was  in  a  drunken 
sleep  on  the  floor.  The  baby's  cry  woke  him.  He 
swore  a  dreadful  oath  at  the  little  weak,  white  thing 
in  my  arms  and  struck  it  hard  across  the  mouth.  I 
don't  know  what  wild  words  I  said  to  my  husband, 
but  I  told  him  I  would  never  see  his  face  again. 
Then  I  caught  my  baby  to  my  breast  and  I  ran  and 
ran  through  the  cold  Christmas  streets,  and  the  stars 
went  out,  and  the  lights  went  out  in  the  houses,  and 
the  little  baby  on  my  breast  grew  heavier  and  heav 
ier,  and  by  and  by  it  was  dawn,  and,  oh,  so  cruelly 
cold,  and  I — I  opened  the  shawl  and  saw —  '  Here, 
overcome  by  the  recollection  the  poor  woman  covered 
her  face  in  her  hands  and  burst  into  wild  sobbing. 
And  then  the  captain  turned.  "  Helen,  Helen, 
my  poor,  poor  girl!  Hush!  I  spoke  like  a  brute, 
but  I  was  hit  hard.  I  was  your  friend— I  am  your 


174  FORT   FRAYNE. 

friend.  It  is  late.  You  must  go  in.  Take  my 
cloak,  you  are  shivering." 

With  that  he  turned  and  led  her  to  the  angle  by 
the  colonel's  quarters,  and  there  she  looked  up  one 
instant  into  his  sorrow-stricken  face.  "  Do  not 
come  further  with  me,"  she  implored.  "  You  have 
been  so  good  to  me,"  and,  bowing  to  her  will,  he  let 
her  go,  and  stood,  following  her  swiftly  retreating 
form  with  his  longing  eyes.  And  then,  soft  and 
sweet  and  clear,  as  though  rising  above  all  surround 
ing  of  crime  or  sin  or  sorrow,  there  floated  on  the 
night  the  prolonged  notes  of  the  cavalry  trumpet 
sounding  the  soldier  lullaby — "  Lights  out." 

"  Lights  out,"  murmured  Leale.  "Lights  out — 
ah,  God  help  me — for  life  and  love  it  is,  indeed, 
lights  out." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CLEAR  and  sparkling  Christmas  morning  dawned 
on  old  Fort  Frayne.  The  clouds  that  obscured  the 
moon  at  midnight  sent  fluttering  earthward  a  fresh 
fall  of  snow  and  spread  a  spotless  coverlet  over  the 
valley  of  the  Platte,  softening  rude  outlines,  capping 
with  glistening  white  roof  and  chimney,  tree  and 
tower,  and  mercifully  obliterating  the  unsightly 
streaks  that  led  across  the  frozen  river,  and  the  deep 
red  blotches  that  smeared  the  post  at  No.  5. 

Two  discoveries  had  been  made  by  the  officer  of 
the  guard  in  his  search  after  the  removal  of  Graice, 
struggling  and  cursing  savagely  to  the  prison  room 
on  the  second  floor,  where  Leale  himself  directed 
him  placed,  instead  of  among  the  garrison  prisoners 
in  the  general  room.  One  was  that  the  sentry  had 
received  from  some  source  a  flask  of  whiskey,  after 
being  placed  on  post,  for,  half  emptied,  it  was  found 
in  a  woodpile  back  of  the  officers'  quarters.  The 
other  was  that  he  had  more  than  once  meandered 
from  the  beaten  path  to  the  rear  gateway  leading  to 
the  Farrars'  quarters,  as  though  some  powerful  at 
traction  drew  him  thither. 

Even  before  the  tragedy  which  had  shocked  the 
garrison  at  taps,  busy  tongues  had  everywhere  been 
telling  of  Thorpe's  furious  denunciation  of  Graice 
and  of  the  statement  as  to  his  claim  to  being  the  son 
of  an  officer.  Members  of  the  guard  had  noticed  the 

175 


176  FORT   FRAYNE. 

fury  that  seemed  to  possess  Graice  after  that  episode. 
He  slunk  away  from  his  kind  as  though  unable  to 
face  them  after  having  passively  received  such  a 
scoring.  He  had  twice  been  refused  by  the  ser 
geant  permission  to  leave  the  guardhouse,  as  it  was 
surmised  he  had  liquor  hidden  somewhere,  and  was 
craving  its  fiery  comfort  and  stimulant  now.  So 
strong  was  his  conviction  on  this  head  that  the  ser 
geant  had  searched  him  before  letting  Graice  parade 
with  his  relief  at  10:15.  But  Graice  knew  too  much 
to  conceal  a  flask  about  his  person.  Looking  only 
for  liquor,  the  sergeant  unluckily  had  failed  to 
notice  the  keen  knife  that  was  secreted  within  the 
breast  of  his  overcoat,  and  that  knife  had  done 
bloody  and  disastrous  work.  It  was  evident  to  all 
that  he  must  have  been  drinking  heavily  after  taking 
his  post,  for  he  was  reeling  when  led  to  the  guard 
house,  and  the  mad  imprecations  on  his  lips  were 
frightful  to  hear. 

Up  to  reveille  Christmas  morning  not  a  word  had 
come  from  Fenton's  command,  but  soon  after 
stable  call  a  courier  rode  in  with  a  note  to  Leale. 
"All  right,"  it  cheerily  read.  "We  found  the 
whole  band  spoiling  for  a  fight  and  ready  to  clean 
out  half  the  county  anyhow,  but  the  cowboys  kept 
at  respectful  distance  until  we  got  there.  Then 
when  they  knew  a  fight  wouldn't  be  allowed  they 
came  charging  down  and  demanded  battle  or  the  sur 
render  of  White  Wolf  and  his  three  pals.  Two  of 
the  latter  were  half  way  to  Crazy  Woman's  Fork  by 
this  time,  and  I  do  not  officially  know  the  other,  so 


FORT    FRAYXE.  177 

the  whole  village  moves  up  under  our  wing  and  will 
camp  on  the  low  ground  to  the  west  of  the  fort. 
Then,  when  the  civil  authorities  come  with  warrants 
and  the  assurance  that  the  two  shall  have  fair  play 
and  a  square  trial,  Big  Road  will  surrender  the  al 
leged  murderers.  Meanwhile  no  cowboy  shall  be 
allowed  on  the  reservation.  We  should  be  back  by 
noon."  'Signed',  "Fenton." 

And  by  noon  back  they  came,  the  big  squadron  of 
regulars,  the  motley  village  of  Sioux,  followed  at 
very  discreet  distance  by  an  equally  motley  array  of 
cowboys  and  citizens,  and  all  Christmas  afternoon 
the  industrious  squaws  were  pitching  the  tepees  on 
the  westward  flats,  herding  the  ponies  and  cooking 
for  their  lords,  while  most  of  these  latter  were  loafing 
about  the  post,  glad  of  a  chance  to  prowl  around  the 
quarters  and  storehouses  and  beg  for  anything  they 
saw  or  fancied.  As  for  ''society"  at  Frayne,  it  ac 
cepted  the  bliss  of  the  situation  as  readily  as  it  had 
mourned  the  necessity  that  sent  the  command  away, 
and,  except  in  one  or  two  households,  all  thought 
was  centered  in  the  briefly-interrupted  preparations 
for  the  festivities  of  the  coming  night. 

O  O 

Wyoming  winter  days  were  short  enough,  yet  this, 
almost  the  shortest  of  the  year,  had  already  proved 
too  long,  too  trying,  to  more  than  one  comparative 
stranger  within  the  gates  of  Fort  Frayne.  The  story 
of  Graice's  furious  outbreak,  of  Crow  Knife's  de 
votion  and  dangerous  wound,  had  gone  like  wildfire 
over  the  once  more  crowded  garrison.  The  former, 
as  has  been  said,  was  safely  locked  in  the  smaller 


178  FORT    FRAYNE. 

prison  room  of  the  old  guardhouse,  where  for  a  time 
he  had  been  heard  savagely  raging  at  his  bars  and 
kicking  at  the  resounding  woodwork;  Crow  Knife, 
borne  on  a  blanket  to  the  hospital,  lay  silent,  patient, 
and  hovering  between  life  and  death,  the  captain 
whom  he  loved  and  for  whom  he  had  periled  his  life, 
sitting  steadfast  by  his  side. 

Night  came  on  strangely  still.  The  lx>om  of  the 
sunset  gun,  —  the  evening  chorus  of  the  trumpets 
and  the  voices  of  the  men  at  roll-call  all  muffled  by 
the  fleecy  fall  of  snow, — yet  there  was  premonition 
in  the  air,  and  old-timers  glanced  at  the  sky  and  at 
the  yellow  sunset,  gloomily  predicting  ugly  weather 
before  the  coming  morn.  Within  the  cheery  mess- 
rooms,  where  the  troopers  Avere  wont  to  flock 
with  bustle  and  "chaff"  and  all  manner  of  fun, 
mingling  with  the  clatter  of  plate  and  knife  and 
spoon,  among  the  cozy  homes  across  the  parade, 
where  the  families  of  the  officers  gathered  at  dinner, 
the  gloom  of  G mice's  drunken  crime,  merged  in 
the  shadows  of  the  wintry  gloaming,  seemed  to  op 
press  every  heart,  killing  joyous  laughter,  saddening 
soldier  tones,  stifling  merry  quip  and  jest,  strangling 
every  effort  to  throw  off  the  weight  that  had  settled 
on  old  and  young,  on  one  and  all.  Even  among 
the  more  reckless  and  indifferent  of  the  men, 
Leale's  impartiality  and  justice  had  won  respect  that 
outlived  their  dread  of  his  stern  and  unyielding 
discipline.  Even  those  who  had  suffered  at  his 
hands  could  not  but  admire  more  than  they  hated 
him.  Among  nine-tenths  of  the  troopers  he  was 


FORT    FRAYXE.  179 

held  in  solid  esteem,  among  very  many  in  almost 
enthusiastic  affection,  but  one  and  all  they  united 
in  praise  of  his  conduct  on  this  trying  occasion,  and 
in  deep,  if  not  loud  denunciation  of  his  brutalized 
assailant.  As  for  the  other,  the  more  reputable  if 
red-skinned  savage,  the  soldiers  had  but  one  opinion: 
Crow  Knife  was  the  whitest  Indian  in  Wyoming, 
and  they  meant  it  as  a  compliment  despite  its  un 
flattering  possibilities. 

Graice  himself  had  made  no  friends.  A  man  with 
a  grievance  is  never  popular  among  soldiers,  high  or 
low,  and  Graice's  sullen,  surly  ways  had  estranged 
even  those  in  whom  his  mouthiugs  against  his  supe 
riors  of  every  rank,  from  colonel  to  corporal,  might 
possibly  have  responsive  echo.  That  there  should  be 
talk  of  lynching  was  characteristic  of  the  time  and 
neighborhood  and  the  associations  of  frontier  life, 
and  that  it  would  come  to  nothing  in  a  military  gar 
rison,  its  most  strenuous  advocates  fully  realized. 

And  all  the  same,  despite  the  prevailing  gloom, 
the  preparations  for  the  dance  went  on.  Battle  and 
murder  and  sudden  death  from  which  we  worldlings 
so  earnestly  pray  deliverance,  were  matters  that 
might  mar,  but  could  not  down,  the  soldier  love  for 
social  gayeties.  Were  it  otherwise  there  would  have 
been  many  a  year  in  the  history  of  our  little  army 
wherein  no  music  sounded  save  the  dirge,  and  the 
only  answer  to  the  battle  volley  was  its  measured 
echo  at  the  grave.  Just  as  the  bandsmen  peal  their 
most  joyous  strains  a.-i  they  lead  the  funeral  column 
on  the  homeward  march,  so  must  there  be  the  merry 


180  FOKT    FBAYXE. 

sound  of  music  and  the  dance  in  every  garrison  of 
the  far  frontier,  or  the  wolf's  long  howl  and  the  sav 
age  war  whoop,  the  battle  cry,  and  dying  moan  live 
unbanished  from  the  tortured  memory,  and  mind 
and  matter  both  give  way  under  the  ceaseless  strain. 
The  morbid  curiosity  that  brought  shivering  little 
squads  of  children  and  delegations  from  Sudsvillc  and 
the  stables,  ay,  from  Officers'  Row,  to  peer  at 
the  scene  of  the  fierce  and  sudden  affray  still  sent  its 
victims  thither,  and  questioners  were  perpetually 
bothering  Rorke  and  his  assistants  as  they  were  put 
ting  the  finishing  touches  to  the  decorations  and 
lighting  the  lamps  about  the  ballroom. 

"G'wan  outo'  this,  Finnigan,"  said  Rorke,  flour 
ishing  his  broom  at  the  little  group.  "  Go  to  your 
quarters,  Collins.  Divil  knows  there  was  no  per- 
suadiu'  on  ye  to  come  a-visitin'  here  when  wurrk  was 
on  hand;  but  now  ye  shmell  the  spread,  an'  drame 
o'  crumbs  and  heel-taps,  ye're  as  privilent  as  poor 
relations  at  a  wake.  Arrah,  go  talk  to  me  ould  hel- 
niit  over  at  the  barracks  yonder — me  head's  tired. 
Shure  I've  tould  yer  lasht  night's  dark  shtory  tin 
toitnes  over,  an'  there'll  be  no  more  shtory  to  tell  till 
we  know  whether  it's  loif  or  death  for  Crow  Knife 
— poor  soul — at  the  hospital  yonder,  an'  a  rope  or  a 
penitentiary  cell  for  that  drunken  divil  in  the  guard 
house  tower." 

"What's  he  in  the  tower  for?"  asked  Trooper 
Martin.  "All  by  himself  is  he?  Too  fine  for  the 
general  room?" 

"  Too  fine?  Too  wise,  crazed  as  he  was, "  answered 


FORT    FRAYXE.  181 

Rorke,  "as  to  thrust  himself  in  the  general  prison 
room.  Sure  he  begged  pitiful  to  be  shut  up  by  him 
self  and  not  put  loike  an  onrighteous  Daniel  into 
that  din  o'lions — raaniu'  two  Indians  an'  a  woild 
Irish  prisoner  or  two,  an'  they  knowin'  him  to  have 
his  comrade's  blood,  not  dhry  on  his  hands." 

"•Yes,  and  if  things  go  wrong  with  Crow,"  said 
Martin,  reflectively,  "I  reckon  Graice  will  wish  fire 
would  stand  his  friend  again,  as  he  was  telling  us  it 
did  in  Mexico." 

"  Arrah,  if  foire  were  to  visit  him  this  night  it's 
him  wad  visit  the  divil  in  short  order,"  said  Rorke, 
looking  out  of  the  window.  "There's  purgathory's 
own  wind  that'll  be  abroad  presently,  an'  a  fire 
shtarted  anywhere  in  the  post  wad  foind  thim  car 
tridges  in  the  guardhouse  before  we  cud  say  our 
prayers.  G'wau  out  of  this,  yeomadhauns,"  said  he, 
flourishing  his  broom  again  at  the  crowd  that  gath 
ered  about  him.  "  Shcat  down  to  Sudsville  wid  ye  be 
fore  your  betters  come  to  foind  ye  disfigurin'  the 
landscape.  Off  wid  ye,ye  son  av  a  soap  dish,"  he  cried 
to  a  laundress's  child,  "and  tell  yer  mother  she  ruined 
my  best  shtable  frock  wid  her  bluin'  lasht  week. 
Faith,  it  ran  loike  the  legs  in  yer  father's  breeches 
the  lasht  fight  we  were  in,— bad  scran  to  him  for  the 
worst  cobbler  in  the  cavalry.  Out  wid  every  moth 
er's  son  of  ye,"  he  cried,  driving  them  all  out  but 
Kraut  and  Martin.  "Shut  that  dure  now,  Kraut, 
and  bar  it  wid  the  broad  av  yer  back,  till  I  get  the 
schrane  before  the  enthrance." 

But  Martin  still  had  other  questions  to  ask.    ' '  They 


182  FORT    FBAYNE. 

say  the  Indians  of  Crow's  troop  will  be  neither  to 
hold  nor  bind  if  that's  his  death  wound  that  Graice 
gave  him.  I'm  told  there's  mutterings  about  their 
having  Graice  out  of  the  guardhouse  to-night,  tower 
or  no  tower." 

Korke  turned  and  gazed  out  of  the  window  to 
where  the  lights  were  beginning  to  burn  in  the  little 
building.  "I  pity  the  man,"  said  he,  "that  thries 
to  have  him  out  whin  Captain  Leale's  there  to  watch 
him  and  says  he  shall  sthay  in." 

"Will  Crow  Knife  die,  do  you  think,  corporal?" 
asked  Martin. 

"Oi  don't  know.  The  doctor  believes  it,  an'  for 
the  besht  reasons,  —  shure  he  knows  what  he's  been 
giving  him." 

The  voices  of  ladies  could  be  heard  at  the  moment 
at  the  vestibule,  and  presently,  with  their  escorts, 
Mrs.  Farrar  and  Ellis  came  hastening  in  as  though 
they  had  come  purposely  to  have  one  look  at  the  old 
colonel's  portrait  before  the  gathering  of  the  rest  of 
the  party.  A  little  behind  them,  pale  and  with  an 
expression  that  seemed  to  tell  of  the  strain  through 
which  she  had  been  passing,  Helen  Daunton  came, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  Major  Wayne,  whom  she  led 
to  one  side,  as  mother  and  daughter  stood  in  front  of 
the  picture. 

' '  The  light  seems  perfect, "  said  Mrs.  Farrar.  ' '  I'm 
sure  I  see  your  hand  in  all  this,  Rorke,  and  I  want 
to  thank  you  not  only  for  myself,  but  for  your  old 
colonel.  It's  many  a  Christmas  we  both  of  us  have 


1'OIIT    FKAYXE.  183 

seen  with  the  old  regiment,  and  the  first  of  them  I 
was  a  girl  bride  and  you  a  wee  boy  trumpeter." 

"Indade,  ina'm,"  answered  Rorke,  "  those  were 
merry  Christmases  that  cameafthcr,  whin  you  used  to 
come  to  the  min's  dances  there  a-ladin'  little  Masther 
Royle — plague  on  me  tongue!  Phat  am  I  sayiu'  of?" 

"Speak  of  him  when  you  will,  Rorke,"  she 
answered,  gently.  "  I  love  to  have  him  brought 
before  me,  as  we  remember  him  then;  my  Royle — 
my  brave  boy !  " 

"  Dade,  an1  he  was  worth  remimberin',  ma'am. 
The  handsome  wild  young  rider — free  wid  his 
money  and  free  wid  his  lists.  Many's  the  toime  I've 
had  to  shtand  betune  him  and  his  little  brother — him 
as  is  my  shuperior  officer  this  day,  — Oh,  but  it's  a 
foine  officer  he  makes,  does  Masther  Will!  I  never 
see  him  so  sthrait  an'  handsome  and  martial  on 
parade— loik  his  father  before  him — him  that's  gone 
to  glory  wid  the  love  av  ivery  soldier  that  iver  knew 
him,  that  I  don't  remimber  thim  days  whin  I  was 
a  recruit  an'  he  was  the  colonel's  kid.  Och,  what 
days — what  days!  "  and,  lost  in  the  enthusiasm  of 
his  reminiscences,  Rorke  failed  to  notice  that  Lieu 
tenant  Farrar  and  Kitty  had  come  quietly  in  and 
were  standing  but  a  little  distance  behind  him.  "  Do 
ye  remimber,  now,  ma'am,  the  Christmas  Masther 
Will  mounted  his  little  pony,  ahl  dressed  up  to  kill, 
an'  'twas  to  take  the  docther's  daughter  out  ridin' 
he  wud,  an'  tin  minutes  later  we  brought  him  home 
ahl  dhrippin'  and  rippin'  and  ragin'  ahl  along  av 
Corcorin's  ould  billy  goat  havin'  butted  him  into  the 


184  FORT    FBAYXE. 

ditch  back  o'  Company  D's  quarthers  an'  him  ready 
to  kill  me  for  burstin'  wid  laughin'.  Oh,  he  was  a 
foine  boy — ."  And  here  Will  came  furiously  for 
ward,  and  Rorke,  horror-stricken,  stiffened  up  to 
the  salute.  "  I  beg  yer  pardon,  Masther  Will." 

"Your  reminiscences  are  ill  timed,  corporal,  to 
say  the  least.  If  you've  quite  finished,  you'd  better 
follow  your  men — unless — "  and  this  he  added  with 
scathing  sarcasm,  and  glancing  at  Kitty,  who  was 
convulsed  with  laughter — "unless,  perhaps,  Miss 
Ormsby  desires  you  to  further  entertain  her  with 
anecdotes  of  my  childhood,"  and  here  Kitty  burst 
in. 

"I?  Mercy,  no!  My  constant  effort  is,  out  of 
respect  to  you,  to  forget  your  youth,  not  to  recall  it. 
Surely,  you're  not  going  to  put  on  that  horrid  thing 
again?  "  she  exclaimed,  as  Will,  who  had  laid  aside 
his  overcoat  and  sabre,  now  buckled  on  the  weapon. 

"Are  you  afraid  I'll  injure  you  with  it?  "  said  he, 
with  deep  sarcasm. 

"  Oh,  not  a  bit,"  said  Kitty.  "Nor  anybody  else 
— unless  you  should  happen  to  cut  yourself." 

"Gibe  away,  Miss  Ormsby, "  said  the  officer  of 
the  guard.  "  You  cannot  gibe  me  into  laying  aside 
my  sabre.  As  duty  forbids  me  to  appear  without  it, 
even  your  wishes  cannot  be  regarded." 

"What?  You  officer  of  the  guard?"  exclaimed 
Kitty.  "Ah,"  with  sudden  change  of  manner, 
"then  for  one  night  the  post  is  safe."  Here  she 
seized  Rorke's  broom  and  took  the  position  of  charge 
bayonet.  "  Who  comes  there?  "  she  cried.  "  The 


FOKT    PKAYXE.  185 

enemy  a  million  strong!  Halt,  enemy  and  tremble! 
Run  for  your  lives!  Do  you  know  who  is 
officer  of  the  guard?  It's  Masther  Will."  And 
then,  turning  from  him  in  saucy  imitation  of  his 
swagger  and  stride,  with  her  broom  at  right  shoulder, 
away  she  marched  for  the  dressing-room. 

"She's  past  patience,"  said  poor  Will  to  himself, 
justly  wrathful  at  such  ignominious  treatment  at  the 
hands  of  his  lore,  and  what  made  it  worse  was  that 
numbers  of  people  were  rapidly  arriving  and  that 
many  had  witnessed  and  enjoyed  Kitty's  saucy  mock 
ery;  but  right  in  the  midst  of  these  new  arrivals 
came  an  orderly  trumpeter  with  a  note  which  he  lost 
no  time  in  delivering  to  Mr.  Farrar  with  the  brief 
announcement:  "The  officer  of  the  day's  compli 
ments,  sir,  and  he  said  the  lieutenant  should  have  it 
immediately." 

Helen  Daunton  was  among  those  who  marked  the 
swift  coming  of  the  messenger,  and  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  resist  the  impulse  that  drew  her  toward  the 
young  officer.  Intuitively  she  knew  that  that  mes 
sage  in  some  wise  concerned  her  wretched  husband, 
now  the  object  of  the  wrath  and  curses  of  the  whole 
command.  Breathless  she  watched  Farrar  as  he  tore 
open  the  envelope  and  rapidly  read  the  brief  inclos- 
ure. 

"Crow  Knife  is  dead.  There  is  intense  excite 
ment  among  the  men,  especially  the  Indians,  and 
threats  of  lynching  have  been  heard.  Graice  knows 
his  peril,  and  may  try  to  escape.  Look  well  to  your 
guard.  Farwell,  Officer  of  the  Day." 


186  FORT    FRAYNE. 

"Escape  from  ray  guard,"  Helen  heard  him  say, 
"  Not  if  he  tcere  my  own  brother!  " 

The  next  minute  Will  had  caught  up  his  cap  and 
overcoat  and  started  for  the  door. 

But  Kitty  had  already  begun  to  repent  of  her  ex 
periment  and  to  question  whether  she  had  not 
hazarded  too  much  in  thus  provoking  her  devoted 
but  none  the  less  peppery  lover.  Peering  from  the 
dressing-room,  she  saw  him  dart  past  Helen  Daun- 
ton,  giving  very  brief  answer  to  some  question 
asked,  saw  him  pick  up  his  cap  and  coat,  and  that 
was  more  than  enough  to  bring  her  to  terms.  Un 
aware  of  the  coming  of  the  orderly,  she  looked  upon 
Will's  preparations  for  departure  as  proof  positive 
that  he  was  so  angered  against  her  as  to  have  decided 
to  quit  the  ballroom  for  good  and  all.  In  an  instant 
she  came  fluttering  to  his  side,  catching  him  only  at 
the  very  doorway. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Farrar?"  she  de 
manded,  aggrieved  and  imploring,  both.  "You're 
engaged  to  me  for  the  very  first  dance,  sir.  Surely 
you're  not  going  out?" 

"I  regret  to  have  to  ask  for  my  release,  Miss 
Ormsby,"  answered  Will,  with  infinite  dignity, 
"but  duty  of  unusual  importance  calls  me  at  once. 
My  sabre  and  I  made  sport  for  you  a  moment  ago, 
and  now  we  are  going  where  both  are  needed,"  and, 
bowing  very  low  and  looking  very  majestic,  the  offi 
cer  of  the  guard  turned  and  abruptly  left  the  room, 
leaving  his  late  tormentor  gazing  after  him  with  eyes 
that  suddenly  filled  and  lips  that  quivered  suspi- 


FORT    FKAYNE.  187 

ciously.  Ellis  saw  through  it  all  at  once  and  came 
to  comfort  her. 

Strange  to  say,  the  young  officers  were  gathering 
but  slowly  to-night,  and  several  of  their  number  had 
not  yet  arrived.  The  musicians  were  in  their  places 
and  already  awaiting  the  signal  of  the  floor  manager, 
but  Leale's  absence  was  remarked  by  many  of  those 
present,  and  when  Fenton  entered,  his  face,  usually 
so  jovial,  was  clouded  and  anxious.  Ormsby  was 
with  him,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  seek  and  find  Ellis 
at  once.  Kitty  was  just  turning  away  as  they  came. 
She  had  watched  Will's  tall  figure  disappear  in  the 
gloaming  toward  the  guardhouse,  and  now  precipi 
tated  herself  upon  Uncle  Fenton  to  demand  an  expla 
nation  of  "Will's  mysterious  references  to  important 
duty,  and  once  again,  therefore,  Ellis  was  alone. 
Ormsby  stepped  quickly  to  her  side.  She  would 
have  escaped  to  the  di'essing-room,  but  could  not  do 
so  without  passing  close  beside  him.  She  could  not 
be  deaf  to  the  mingling  of  reproach  and  tenderness 
in  the  tone  with  which  he  spoke. 

"It  would  be  advertising  our — difference  were 
you  to  deny  me  a  dance  or  two,  Miss  Farrar,  and  I 
have  come  to  remind  you  of  your  promise.  You 
have  not  forgotten?" 

"I  think  all  promises  are  at  an  end  between  us," 
was  the  cold,  constrained  reply.  "I  forget  nothing. 
I  remember  only  too  well." 

"Ellis,"  said  he,  with  sudden  impulse,  "these 
are  the  last  words  we  can  have  alone,  for  I  have 
determined  to  go,  and  by  the  very  next  train.  I 


188  FORT   FRAYNE. 

appeal  no  longer  for  your  love.  The  girl  who  has 
not  learned  to  trust  cannot  learn  to  love,  but  I  do 
appeal  to  your  sense  of  justice  not  to  pass  blind, 
cruel  judgment  on  the  innocent  woman  whose  secret 
I  am  shielding  at  the  cost  of  what  is  dearest  to  me 
in  life." 

But  she  was  immovable.  Like  the  soldier's  daugh 
ter  she  was,  she  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes  as 
she  answered: 

"Neither  an  innocent  woman  nor  an  innocent 
secret  can  need  shielding  at  such  a  cost." 

"Ellis,"  he  began,  his  voice  trembling  with  emo 
tion,  as  he  stepped  close  to  her  side,  but  she  recoiled 
from  him,  and,  noting  it  and  the  entrance  of  new 
arrivals,  he  strangled  the  impulse  that  swayed  him, 
and,  after  a  moment's  silence,  continued,  in  a  tone 
as  cold  as  her  own:  "No;  I  see  it  is  useless.  The 
last  word  is  said;  but  we  cannot  forget  the  world  is 
looking  on  to-night.  You  will  give  me — this 
dance? " 

She  inclined  her  head  in  assent,  but  would  not 
trust  herself  to  speak.  Even  now,  when  angered 
and  full  of  jealous  distrust,  she  cared  for  him  far 
too  well  not  to  note  the  sudden  change  in  tone,  not 
to  feel  vague  yet  deep  distress  that  he  had  taken  her 
at  her  word — that  he  had  determined  to  leave  her 
this  very  night — that  he  would  plead  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AN  hour  later  and  the  long-expected  Christmas 
ball  was  in  full  swing,  but  the  late  comers  entered 
snow-covered  and  buffeted,  for,  just  as  Corporal 
Rorke  had  predicted,  a  howling  blizzard  was  sweep 
ing  down  from  the  gorges  of  the  Rockies,  and  whirl 
ing  deep  the  drifts  about  the  walls  of  old  Fort 
Frayne.  Leale  had  come  in  about  tattoo,  grave  and 
taciturn,  his  fine  face  shadowed  by  a  sorrow  whose 
traces  all  could  see.  He  had  come  for  no  festive 
purpose,  was  still  in  undress  uniform,  and,  after 
a  brief,  low-toned  conference  with  his  colonel,  had 
turned  at  once  in  search  of  Helen  Daunton,  who, 
ever  since  the  dance  began,  had  hovered  near  the 
windows  that  looked  out  toward  the  guardhouse, 
barely  one  hundred  yards  away,  yet  now,  even  with 
its  brilliant  light,  only  dimly  visible  through  the 
lashing  storm.  Twice  had  Mrs.  Farrar  essayed  to 
draw  her  friend  into  the  little  circle  by  which  she 
was  surrounded,  but  Helen  had  speedily  sho\vii  she 
was  unable  to  give  her  attention  to  what  was  being 
said  or  to  take  any  part  in  the  conversation.  ItwTas 
at  the  window  Leale  found  her,  and  gently  but  firmly 
drew  her  to  one  side  and  closed  the  shade. 

"I  have  felt  in  every  fibre,"  said  he,  "how  you 
were  waiting,  watching,  and  agonizing  here  for  news 
from — from  him.  There  is  no  news,  Helen,  except 

189 


190  FORT    FRAYHE. 

— you  know  the  man  lie  stabbed — who  gave  his  life 
for  me — is  dead?" 

"I  know,"  was  the  shuddering  answer.  "  Has  he 
heard?  Does  he  realize?" 

"  Possibly  not.  He  seems  to  be  sleeping.  But 
he  will  know  it  soon  enough.  Helen — do  you  know 
this — that  to-morrow  we  must  give  him  up?  " 

"  Give  him  up?  "  she  asked,  unable  to  comprehend 
his  meaning,  and  looking  with  new  dread  into  his 

O7  O 

compassionate  face. 

"Yes,  to  the  civil  authorities.  He  has — I  cannot 
choose  words  now — he  has  committed  murder  and 
must  be  tried  by  a  civil,  not  a  military,  court." 

"You  must  give  him  up,"  she  moaned.  "Oh, 
what  can  we  do — what  can  we  do?  "  and,  fearfully 
she  glanced  to  where  Mrs.  Farrar  was  seated,  chat 
ting  blithely,  even  joyously,  now,  with  her  garrison 
friends. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "  and  well  I  know  now  why 
you  gaze  at  her.  I  know  all  the  miserable  truth. 
Ormsby  told  me  when  he  came  to  ask  my  counsel 
and  my  help.  He  has  only  left  me  a  short  time 
since.  I  was  pledged  to  help  your  husband,  Helen, 
and  I  am  doubly  pledged  to  help  that  dear,  dear 
woman's  son.  I  must  protect  Royle  Farrar  to  the 
utmost  of  my  power,  but,  Helen,  in  this  last  half 
hour,  by  the  bedside  of  the  brave  fellow  who  gave 
his  life  for  me,  I  have  looked  life  and  my  own  soul 
in  the  face.  I  know  what  I  must  do  and  what  I 
cannot  do.  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  play  at 
friendship  with  the  woman  I  love  with  all  my  soul. 


FORT    FRAYXE.  191 

I  can  only  be  your  friend  by  serving  you  from  far 
away.  When  what  is  coming  to  Royle  Farrar  has 
come,  I  shall  take  leave  of  absence  and  go  over  the 
sea.  It  is  good-bye  between  us  now.  To-night  I 
look  my  last  upon  the  face  of  Royle  Farrar's  wife. 
What?  You  want  me,  Will?  "  he  suddenly  turned 
and  asked,  for  at  this  moment,  throwing  back  the 
snow-matted  hood  of  his  overcoat,  Farrar  entered 
and  came  quickly  to  them,  unseen  by  his  mother. 

"Yes,  sir.  The  news  of  Crow  Knife's  death  is 
all  over  the  garrison,  and  the  men  are  fairly  mad 
over  it.  They  won't  try  lynching,  but  the  sentries 
at  the  guardhouse  are  doubled,  front  and  rear. 
Graice  is  sleeping  yet,  or  else  shamming.  I  don't 
think  lie's  too  drunk  not  to  realize  what  would  hap 
pen  if  Crow  Knife's  people  got  at  him." 

"Then  your  duty  is  doubled,  lad,"  was  Leale's  low- 
toned  answer;  "  to  hold  the  prisoner  and  to  protect 
him.  too. " 

"  I  understand,"  said  Will,  firmly.  "The  man 
v,  ho  gets  at  him  to-night,  sir,  will  have  to  go 
through  hell  first." 

And  then  he  turned  to  find  Kitty  standing,  smil 
ing  in  saucy  triumph  at  his  elbow,  leaning  on  the 
colonel's  arm.  Still  angered  against  her  and  deeply 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  duties  devolv 
ing  upon  him,  Farrar  would  have  hastened  by  them 
with  only  brief  and  ceremonious  salutation,  wrhen 
Fenton  stopped  him. 

"  Where  did  I  understand  that  you  were  going, 
sir?"  said  he  with  mock  severity  of  manner.  "I 


192  FOKT   PBAYNE. 

gave  you  permission  to  remain  here,  sir,  and  you'd 
better  jump  at  the  chance.  Here's  my  niece  telling 
me  that  you  are  engaged  to  dance  with  her,  and  at 
this  moment  it  seems  you  are  about  to  leave  the 
room.  Off  with  that  overcoat,  or  it's  your  sabre 
that  will  come  off,  sir,  in  arrest.  What!  Slight  a 
member  of  your  colonel's  household?  Lord  bless  me, 
sir!  it's  tantamount  to  mutiny!  " 

"But  colonel,"  responded  Farrar  impetuously, 
"the  officer  of  the  day — 

"  Not  another  word,  sir.  Here  is  your  officer  of 
the  day,"  said  he,  indicating  Kitty,  "and  you  will 
report  for  duty  instantly." 

Irresolute,  rejoicing,  disappointed  and  perturbed 
all  in  one,  Farrar  stood  one  moment  hardly  knowing 
what  to  do,  when  Kitty  seized  him  by  one  arm,  and 
Leale,  noting  his  embarrassment,  stepped  to  his  aid. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  guardhouse,  Will,  and  I  will 
look  after  your  duties  there.  Have  your  dance  and 
return  at  your  convenience.  The  colonel  will  let 
you  go  after  awhile." 

And  then  Kitty  resumed  her  sway.  "I  shan't 
dance  one  step  with  you  until  you  take  that  dreadful 
thing  off,"  said  she,  indicating  his  dangling  sabre, 
and  utterly  ignoring  his  protest  that,  as  officer  of  the 
guard,  it  was  an  essential  part  of  his  uniform  and 
equipment.  Her  only  response  was  that  he  was  to 
remember  that  he  was  then  on  duty  to  her.  "  Take 
off  that  sword,  sir,  and  hurry  about  it,  for  there  goes 
the  band."  And  so  unslinging  the  heavy  weapon, 
he  handed  it  submissively  to  his  imperious  queen, 


FORT    FRAYXE.  193 

who  promptly  stowed  it  away  under  the  wooden 
settee  against  the  wall,  and  then,  curtesying  to  her 
partner,  indicated  to  him  that  at  last  he  was  at  lib 
erty  to  lead  her  to  the  dance. 

And  now,  smiling,  joyous,  and  once  more  thrilling 
with  mischievous  delight,  as  she  bore  her  sulky  prize 
across  the  room, Kitty  came  suddenly  upon  the  major 
standing  mooning  and  preoccupied,  gazing,  appar 
ently,  at  the  portrait  of  Colonel  Farrar,  yet,  as  was 
equally  apparent  to  the  little  knot  of  laughing  look 
ers-on,  seeing  it  not  at  all.  Kitty  was  on  the  point 
of  accosting  and  bringing  him  to  himself,  but  with 
eager  whisper  and  gesticulations  Amory,  Martin 
and  others  called  her  to  them. 

"Don't  wake  him,"  they  murmured.  "Do  let 
Aunt  Lou  have  that  comfort.  See,  she's  coming  to 
him  now,"  And,  as  what  Kitty  most  wanted  at  that 
moment  was  an  opportunity  to  restore  her  inter 
rupted  dominion  over  her  angered  lover,  and  as  he 
was  blind  and  deaf  to  anything  but  the  consideration 
of  his  own  grievances,  personal  and  official,  Wayne 
was  left  to  become  the  central  object  of  interest, 
while  Kitty  drew  her  deposed  officer  of  the  guard  to 
a  distant  corner. 

Wayne  was  a  study.  That  he  was  struggling  to 
recall  some  important  matter  was  evident  to  all  who 
had  long  known  him,  and  for  the  time  being  he  was 
lost  to  all  consciousness  of  surrounding  sights  and 
sounds,  and  had  floated  off  into  that  dreamland  of 
reminiscence  in  which  only  ho  was  thoroughly  at 
home.  One  or  two  of  the  ladies  who  were  at  the 


194  FORT    FRAYNE. 

moment  resting  from  the  dance,  stood  leaning  on 
the  arms  of  their  attendant  cavaliers  and  watching 
with  them  the  result  of  Lucretia's  timid,  yet  deter 
mined,  approach.  Almost  tiptoeing,  as  though 
afraid  that  her  noiseless  footfall  might  rudely  awaken 
him,  she  was  stealing  to  his  side,  and  presently  they 
saw  her  lay  her  hand  upon  his  arm  and  peer  trust 
ingly  up  into  his  face.  Thinking  only  of  him  and 
for  him,  she,  too,  then  was  almost  unconscious  of 
any  observation,  kindly  and  good-natured  though  it 
was. 

Unwilling  to  interrupt  too  suddenly  the  current  of 
his  meditations,  she  hesitated  before  speaking.  Then, 
half  timidly,  she  suggested:  "You  like  the  picture, 
major?" 

Slowly  his  gaze  came  down  from  the  flag-draped 
portrait,  and  through  his  eye-glasses  Wayne  benig- 
nantly  regarded  her.  Finally  his  wandering  wits 
returned  and  he  aroused  himself  to  faltering  answer 
to  her  repeated  question.  "It  makes  him  look  too 
old,"  he  said.  "I  can't  bear  anything  that  looks 
old,  don't  you  know?"  Then,  dimly  conscious  of 
something  he  might  have  put  in  far  happier  form, 
he  quickly  strove  to  recall  his  words.  "I— I  don't 
mean  women,  of  course— I  like  old  women.  You 
know  I  liked  you  twenty  years  ago." 

"You  left  me  to  guess  it,  then,"  murmured  she, 
vaguely  grateful  for  even  this  admission  and  desir 
ous  of  encouraging  avowals  even  thus  late  and  luke 
warm. 

"Yes,"  he  went  on,  "you  know  it  seems  to  me — 


FORT    FRAYNE.  195 

wasn't  it  that  last  night  we  danced  together  at  Jeffer 
son  Barracks?  That  was  every  day  of  twenty  years 
ago." 

"Ah  well,"  answered  Lucretia,  "you  know  it  is 
so  very  difficult  to  reckon  from,  because  that  was  the 
29th  of  February,  and  that  coming  only  once  in  four 
years,  you— 

"Hah!"  Wayne  laughingly  interrupted,  and  then 
suddenly  fell  back  again  into  his  old  mooning 
way.  "And  yet,  you  know,  there  was  something  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  that  night,  and  I  was  so  confound 
edly  absent-minded— 

"Oh,  very,"  said  she,  "for  you  mentioned  that 
there  was  something  you  wanted  to  ask  me  and  I  have 
— I've  been  wondering  what  it  could  be  for  twenty 
years." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  he  delightedly,  "so  have  I 
— so  have  I."  And  here  he  leaned  beamingly  over 
her,  and  his  eye-glasses  fell  off  and  dangled  at  the 
end  of  their  cord.  "It  was  only  to-night,"  he  went 
on,  "it  came  to  me  that  it  was  something  connected 
with  this  ring — my  class  ring,  you  know.  It's  odd 
I  can't  think  what  it  was.  Why,  your  hand  is 
trembling!"  Coyly  she  upraised  it  to  meet  the  com 
ing  ring,  and  then  a<jain  he  faltered. 

"  I  remember  I  was  holding  the  ring  just  like  this, 
when  somebody  called  to  me  that  I'd  better  hurry— 

"Yes,"  she  said,  breathlessly.  "Indeed  you'd 
better  hurry."  But  he  was  still  wandering  in  the 
past. 

"It  seems  to  me — oh!  they'd  sounded  officers'  call, 


196  FORT    FBAYNB. 

and  that  meant  the  devil  to  pay  somewhere,  don't 
you  know? "  But  Lucretia  was  waiting  now,  de 
spondent  again,  for  still  he  went  on:  "You  know, 
I  fancied  until  the  very  next  day  that  I'd  left  the 
ring  here,"  and,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he 
slipped  it  on  her  finger,  "and  yet  the  very  next  day, 
when  I  was  on  scout,  I  found — I  found  it  here,"  and 
with  that  he  again  replaced  it  on  his  own  finger. 
Lucretia's  face  was  a  sight  to  see.  There  was  an 
instant  of  silence,  and  then,  failing  to  note  the  expres 
sion  of  her  face,  looking  into  the  dim  recesses  of  the 
past,  he  again  wandered  off.  "Of  course  I  might 
have  known  I  couldn't  have  left  it  on  your  finger 
without  even  seeing — without  even  seeing  if  it  would 
fit — without — "  and  here  he  lost  the  thread  of  his 
language  entirely,  and,  groping  for  his  glasses,  find 
ing  them,  distractedly  he  tried  to  fit  their  spring  on 
Lucretia's  finger.  Fenton,  who  had  joined  the  group 
of  onlookers,  could  stand  it  no  longer.  Bursting  in 
to  a  roar  of  laughter,  he  came  toward  them  and,  thus 
interrupted,  poor  Wayne  dropped  both  hand  and 
eyeglass,  madly  trying  to  fit  his  own  ring  into  his 
own  eye,  and  look  through  that  under  the  impression 
that  it  was  a  monocle. 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  people  laughing  at?  "  lie 
inquired. 

"Laughing  at?  At  your  trying  to  make  a  spec 
tacle  hook  of  Lucretia's  hand,  you  inspired  old  luna 
tic,"  was  Fenton's  unfeeling  answer,  and  poor  Lucre 
tia,  unable  to  stand  the  raillery  at  the  moment, 


FORT    FEAYNE.  197 

turned  and  fled  to  the  dressing  room,  leaving  Wayne 
to  confront  his  tormentors  as  best  he  might. 

But  while  music  and  laughter  reigned  within  the 
wooden  walls  of  the  assembly  room  and  many  young 
hearts  were  able  to  cast  aside  for  the  time  being  the 
oppression  that  had  settled  upon  the  garrison  earlier 
in  the  evening,  and  \vhile  in  some  of  the  barracks 
there  were  sounds  of  merry-making  and  Christmas 
cheer,  there  was  raging  in  many  a  breast  a  storm  as 
wild  as  that  that  whirled  the  snowdrifts  in  blinding 
clouds  all  around  and  about  the  guardhouse,  where  a 
score  of  seasoned  troopers,  silent,  grim,  and  by  no 
means  in  love  with  their  task,  were  keeping  watch 
and  ward  over  their  little  batch  of  prisoners,  espe 
cially  of  the  cowering  wretch  who  had  been  stowed 
away  in  the  upper  room,  an  utterly  friendless  man. 

Over  across  the  wind-swept  parade,  among  the 
rows  of  wooden  barracks,  was  one  building  where 
no  laughter  rang  and  about  which,  wary  and  vigilant, 
three  or  four  non-commissioned  officers  hovered  in 
cessantly.  Here  were  quartered  Crow  Knife's  few 
remaining  comrades  of  the  Indian  Troop.  Here 
were  gathered  already  a  dozen  of  his  kindred  from 
Big  Road's  transplanted  village,  forbidden  by  the 
fury  of  the  storm  to  return  to  their  tepees  up  the 
valley,  banished  by  the  surgeon  from  the  confines  of 
the  hospital,  where  they  would  fain  have  set  up 
their  mournful  death  song  to  the  distraction  of  the 
patients,  and  refused  by  the  colonel  the  creature 
comforts  they  had  promptly  and  thriftily  demanded, 
except  on  condition  that  they  consume  them  in  quiet 


198  FORT    FRAYNE. 

and  decorum  at  the  Indian  barracks  and  deny  them 
selves  the  luxury  of  their  woe.  Tomtom  and  howl 
were  stilled,  therefore,  while  the  funeral  baked  meats 
went  from  hand  to  mouth,  and  disappeared  with  mar 
velous  rapidity,  and,  indeed,  but  for  its  exciting 
effect  upon  the  warriors,  the  colonel  might  as  well 
have  accorded  them  the  right  to  lament  after  their 
own  fashion,  since  the  howling  of  the  tempest  would 
have  drowned  all  human  wail  from  within  the  wooden 
walls.  But  while  they  had  promised  to  hold  no  abo 
riginal  ceremony  over  Ci'ow  Knife's  death,  and  meant 
to  keep  their  word,  they  had  refused  to  pledge 
themselves  to  attempt  no  vengeance  on  his  slayer. 
Well  they  knew  that,  throughout  the  garrison,  nine 
out  of  ten  of  the  troopers  would  have  cared  not  a 
sou  had  some  one  taken  Graice  from  the  guardhouse 
and  strung  him  up  to  the  old  flagstaff  without 
benefit  of  clergy,  but  this  would  not  have  satisfied 
Indian  ideas—  hanging  according  to  their  creed  being 
far  too  good  for  him.  Two  of  the  best  and  most 
trustworthy  Indians  were  placed  by  Leale,  with  the 
surgeon's  consent,  as  watchers  by  the  bier  of  the 
soldier  scout,  but  the  others  to  a  man  were  herded 
within  the  barracks  and  forbidden  to  attempt  to  set 
foot  outside.  Close  at  hand  in  the  adjoining  quar 
ters  the  men  of  two  troops  were  held  in  readiness, 
under  orders  not  to  take  off  their  belts,  against  any 
sudden  outbreak;  but  the  few  who  first  had  talked  of 
lynching  or  other  summary  vengeance  had  soon  been 
hushed  to  silence.  What  was  feared  among  the 
officers  was  that  Graice  had  been  told  by  some  of  the 


FOET    FRAYNE.  199 

guard  that  the  Indians  were  determined  to  have  his 
scalp,  and  that  the  soldiery  so  despised  him  that  he 
could  not  rely  upon  them  to  defend  him.  Sergeant 
Grafton  was  confident  that  Graice  hoped  in  some 
way,  by  connivance,  perhaps,  of  members  of  the 
guard,  to  slip  out  of  the  building  and  take  refuge 
among  the  outlaws  at  the  groggery  across  the  stream. 
Having  killed  an  Indian  he  had  at  least  some  little 
claim,  according  to  their  theory,  to  a  frontierman's 
respect. 

Returning  to  the  guardhouse,  as  he  had  promised 
Will,  Malcolm  Lcale  was  in  nowise  surprised  at 
Grafton's  anxiety,  and  even  less  to  learn  that  Graice 
had  begged  to  be  allowed  to  have  speech  with  his 
captain. 

It  was  a  ghastly  face  that  peered  out  from  the  dim 
interior  of  the  little  prison  in  answer  to  the  officer's 
summons.  At  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  creaking 
stairway  Graice  had  apparently  hidden  in  the  depths 
of  the  room,  and  only  slowly  came  forward  at  the 
sound  of  the  commanding  voice  he  knew.  Hangdog 
and  drink-sodden  as  was  his  look,  there  was  some 
lingering,  some  revival,  perhaps,  of  the  old  defiant, 
disdainful  manner  he  had  shown  to  almost  every  man 
at  Frayne.  Respect  his  captain  as  even  such  as  he 
was  forced  to  do,  look  up  to  him  now  as  possibly  his 
only  hope  and  salvation,  there  was  yet  to  his  clouded 
intellect  some  warrant  for  a  vague  sentiment  of  su 
periority.  Outcast,  ingrate,  drunkard,  murderer 
though  he  was,  he,  Private  Tom  Graice,  born  Royle 
Farrar,  was  legal  owner  of  all  that  his  captain  held 


200  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

fairest,  dearest,  most  precious  in  all  the  world. 
Leale's  love  for  Helen  Daunton  was  something  the 
whole  garrison  had  seen,  and  seen  with  hearty  sym 
pathy.  It  would  be  something  to  teach  this  proud 
and  honored  officer  that  he,  the  despised  and  crim 
inal  tough,  was,  after  all,  a  man  to  be  envied  as  the 
husband  of  the  woman  his  captain  could  now  only 
vainly  and  hopelessly  love.  It  was  his  plan  to  bar 
gain  with  him,  to  invoke  his  aid,  to  tempt  the  honor 
of  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  but  for  a  moment,  at 
sight  of  that  stern,  sad  face,  he  stood  abashed. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,"  said  Leale,  "and  I  will 
hear  you  now." 

"  I've  got  that  to  say  I  want  no  other  man  to 
know,"  was  the  reply  after  an  interval  of  a  few  sec 
onds,  "  and  1  want  your  word  of  honor  that  you  will 
hold  it — sacred. " 

"I  decline  any  promise  whatever.  What  do  you 
wish  to  say?" 

"Well,  what  I  have  to  tell  you  interests  you  more 
than  any  man  on  earth,  Captain  Leale.  I'm  in  hell 
here — I'm  at  your  mercy,  perhaps.  My  life  is 
threatened  by  these  hounds,  because  by  accident  that 
knife  went  into  that  blind  fool's  vitals.  It  was  only 
self-defense.  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  him." 

"No.  I  was  the  object,  I  clearly  understand," 
said  Leale,  "  go  on." 

' '  Well,  it's  as  man  to  man  I  want  to  speak.  You 
know  I  never  meant  to  harm  him.  You  can  give  me 
a  chance  for  justice,  for  life,  and  I — I  can  make  it 
worth  your  while." 


FORT    FRAYNE.  201 

< '  That  will  do, "  was  the  stern  response.  "No  more 
on  that  head.  What  else  have  you  to  ask  or  say?  " 

"Listen  one  minute,"  pleaded  the  prisoner. 
"  They'd  kill  me  here  if  they  could  get  me,  quick 
enough — Indians  or  troopers  either.  I  must  be 
helped  away.  I  know  your  secret.  You  love  my 
wife.  Help  me  out  of  this — here — this  night,  and 
neither  she  nor  you  will  ever — 

"Silence,  you  hound!  Slink  back  to  your  blanket 
where  you  belong.  I  thank  God  my  friend,  your 
father,  never  lived  to  know  the  depths  of  your  dis 
grace!  Not  a  word!"  he  forbade,  with  uplifted 
hand,  as  the  miserable  fellow  strove  once  more  to 
make  himself  heard.  "  For  the  sake  of  the  name  to 
which  you  have  brought  only  shame,  you  shall  be 
protected  against  Indian  vengeance,  but  who  shall 
defend  you  against  yourself?  I  will  hear  no  more 
from  you.  To-morrow  you  may  see  your  colonel,  if 
that  will  do  you  any  good,  but  if  you  have  one  atom 
of  decency  left,  tell  no  man  living  that  you  areRoyle 
Farrar,"  and  with  that,  raging  at  heart,  yet  cold 
and  stern,  the  officer,  heedless  of  further  frantic 
pleas,  turned  and  left  the  spot. 

But  at  the  porch  the  captain  turned  again. 
Wind  and  snow  were  driving  across  his  path.  The 
sentries  at  the  front  and  flank  of  the  guardhouse, 
muffled  to  their  very  eyes,  staggered  against  the  force 
of  the  gale.  It  seemed  cruelty  to  keep  honest  men 
on  post  a  night  so  wild  as  that  for  no  other  reason 
than  to  protect  the  life  of  a  man  so  criminal.  The 
members  of  the  guard  who  had  resumed  their  lounge 


202  FORT    FRAYNE. 

around  the  red-hot  stove  the  moment  the  captain  dis 
appeared,  once  more  sprang  to  attention  as  he  re- 
entered  and  called  the  sergeant  to  him. 

"  I  am  tempted  to  ask  the  officer  of  the  day  to  re 
lieve  those  sentries,  and  let  Number  One  come  up  in 
to  the  hallway,"  said  he.  "  I  believe  that,  with  the 
watch  we  have  on  the  Indians,  there  is  no  possibility 
of  an  outbreak  on  their  part." 

"There  isn't,  sir,"  was  the  sergeant's  prompt  re 
ply.  "  But  every  man  in  the  garrison  knows  by  this 
time  that  it  was  the  captain  that  blackguard  aimed 
to  kill,  and  it  is  not  the  Indians  alone  that  would  do 
him  if  they  could.  I  find  that,  whenever  I  have  had 
to  leave  the  guardhouse,  some  of  the  men  have  talked 
loud,  for  him  to  hear,  swearing  that  he  would  be 
taken  out  and  hanged  at  daybreak.  Others  want  to 
tempt  him  to  try  to  escape,  so  that  they  can  pursue 
him  over  to  town  and  hammer  him  into  a  jelly  there. 
The  tower  is  the  only  place  where  he  can  be  unmolest 
ed,  sir.  Icouldn'tguaranteehis  safety  from  some  kind 
of  assault,  even  if  I  had  him  right  here  in  the  guard 
room." 

And  just  then  a  corporal  came  from  the  little  office. 

"Sergeant,  its  10:25.      Shall  I  form  my  relief?" 

The  sergeant  nodded  assent.  "  I'll  inspect  it  in 
the  guardroom,"  said  he,  and,  as  Leale  turned  shortly 
away,  intending  to  go  in  search  of  the  officer  of  the 
day,  and  the  sergeant  opened  the  door  to  let  him  out, 
Graice  could  be  heard  on  the  upper  floor,  savagely 
kicking  again  at  his  bars. 

' '  That  man  has    more  gall  than    any    man  I  ever 


FORT    FRAYXE.  203 

met,  sir,"  said  Grafton.  "  He's  kicking  because  we 
refused  to  send  to  the  barracks  for  his  share  of  the 
Christmas  cigars. " 

"  Did  you  search  him  before  he  was  sent  up  there?  " 
asked  Leale.  "  Has  he  matches  or  tobacco?  " 

"Nothing  I  could  find,  sir,  but  other  and  sharper 
men  have  been  confined  there,  and  I'm  told  that 
somewhere  under  the  floor  or  inside  the  walls  they've 
hidden  things  and  he's  hand  in  glove  with  all  the 
toughs  of  the  garrison." 

"Very  well.  I'll  notify  Captain  Farwell,"  said 
Leale,  briefly,  "and  he  will  attend  to  it, "  and  he 
left  the  budding  on  this  quest,  just  as  the  second  re 
lief  came  tramping  out  into  the  storm,  leaving  the 
guardhouse,  its  few  minor  prisoners  on  the  lower 
floor,  and  that  one  execrated  criminal,  his  old  colonel's 
first  born  and  once-beloved  son,  cursing  at  his  cap 
tors  in  the  tower,  all  to  the  care  of  the  members  of  a 
single  relief;  and  the  sentry  on  Number  One  set  up 
his  watch-cry  against  the  howl  of  the  wind,  and  no 
one  a  dozen  yards  away  could  have  heard,  nor  did  it 
pass  around  the  chain  of  sentries,  nor  was  there 
other  attempt  to  call  off  the  hour  that  memorable 
nio-ht.  For  long  days  after  men  recalled  the  fact 
that  the  last  hour  called  from  under  the  old  guard 
house  porch  was  half-past  ten  o'clock. 

Meantime,  having  had  two  dances  with  his  now 
pleading  and  repentant  sweetheart  and  having  been 
cajoled  into  at  least  partial  forgiveness,  Will  Farrar 
had  sought  his  colonel  to  say  that  he  really  ought 
now  to  return  to  his  guard  at  least  for  a  little  time, 


204  FORT    FRAYNE. 

but  Fenton,  conscious  of  the  shadow  that  had  over 
spread  the  garrison  earlier  in  the  evening,  seemed 
bent  on  being  joviality  itself.  He  bade  the  boy  re 
turn  to  his  immediate  commanding  officer  and  obtain 
her  consent  before  again  coming  to  him,  and  Kitty 
flatly  refused.  She  was  dancing  with  Martin  at  the 
moment,  and  that  left  Will  to  his  own  devices,  and, 
after  a  fond  word  or  two  from  his  mother,  he  had 
stepped  back  of  the  seat  occupied  by  her  little  circle 
of  chosen  friends,  and  was  standing  watching  the 
animated  scene  before  him.  Close  at  hand,  not  a 
dozen  feet  away,  stood  Helen  Daunton,  partially 
screened  from  observation  of  the  dancers.  It  was  at 
this  moment  that  Leale  again  came  striding  in, 
glanced  quickly  around  until  he  caught  Will's  eye, 
and  the  young  officer  promptly  joined  him. 

"Is  Farwell  here?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  came  in  a  moment  ago.  Yonder  he  is  now, 
sir,"  answered  Will,  indicating  by  a  nod  the  figure 
of  the  officer  of  the  day  in  conversation  with  some 
one  of  the  guests  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"Then  ask  him  if  he  will  join  me  in  five  minutes 
at  the  guardhouse.  I  need  to  see  him,"  said  Leale, 
and  the  youngster  sped  promptly  on  his  mission. 

The  music  had  just  sounded  the  signal  for  the 
forming  of  the  sets  for  the  lancers,  and  with 
soldierly  promptitude,  the  officers,  with  their  part 
ners,  began  taking  their  positions.  Floor  managers 
have  little  labor  at  a  garrison  hop.  Ellis  Farrar, 
who  had  reappeared  upon  the  arm  of  Captain  Vin- 
ton,  mutely  bowed  her  head  and  accepted  Ormeby's 


FORT    FRAYNE.  205 

hand,  as  he  led  her  opposite  Will  and  his  now  radiant 
Kitty,  and  Malcolm  Leale,  halting  at  the  screened 
threshold  before  taking  his  departure,  turned  for  one 
long  look  at  Helen  Daunton's  face.  Some  intense 
fascination  had  drawn  her  once  more  to  the  east 
window,  and  there,  as  the  dancers  formed,  alone, 
almost  unnoticed,  she  slowly  turned  and  her  eyes  met 
his.  One  last,  long,  intense  gaze  and,  in  one  impulsive 
movement,  as  though  he  read  in  her  glorious  eyes 
the  kindling  light  of  a  love  that  matched  his  own, 
he  would  have  sprung  to  her  side,  but,  with  sudden 
recollection  of  the  barrier  between  them,  he  gathered 
himself,  lifted  his  hand  in  gesture  of  farewell,  and 
turned  abruptly  away.  The  music  crashed  into  the 
opening  bars  of  the  lancers  and  the  dance  began. 

For  a  moment  longer  Helen  stood  there.  Again 
that  powerful  fascination  seemed  to  lure  her  to  draw 
aside  the  curtain  and  gaze  forth  across  the  white  ex 
panse  of  the  parade,  to  where  the  guarded  prison 
stood  within  whose  walls  was  caged  the  savage 
creature  whose  life  was  linked  so  closely  with  those 
of  many  there  besides  her  own.  Then  the  thought 
of  that  other— the  man  whose  love,  all  unwittingly, 
she  had  won,  and  the  fear  that,  glancing  back,  lie 
might  see  her  shadow  as  when  he  came — caused  her 
to  draw  hastily  away.  In  all  that  gay  and  animated 
scene,  as  once  more  she  faced  the  merry  throng, 
Helen  Daunton  stood  alone.  The  dance  went 
blithely  on.  Chat  and  laughter  and  the  gliding, 
rhythmic  steps  of  many  feet  mingled  with  the 
spirited  music  of  Fort  Frayne's  capital  orchestra. 


206  FORT    FRAYNE. 

Even  Mrs.  Farrar's  sweet  face,  so  long  shadowed  by 
sorrow,  beamed  with  the  reflected  light  of  the  glad 
ness  that  shone  on  many  another.  Longing  to  be 
alone  with  her  misery,  Helen  turned  to  seek  the  se 
clusion  of  the  dressing  room,  and  had  almost  reached 
its  threshold,  when  over  or  through  the  strains  of 
the  lancers  and  the  howl  of  the  wind  without,  there 
came  some  strange  sound  that  gave  her  pause. 

Somewhere  out  upon  the  parade  she  heard  the  dis 
tant,  muffled  crack  of  the  cavalry  carbine.  Another 
— another,  farther  away,  and  then,  mingling  with 
them,  hoarse,  low  murmur  as  of  many  voices  and  of 
commands  indistinguishable  through  the  gale. 
Louder  grew  the  clamor,  nearer  came  the  sounds; 
then  the  added  rush  of  many  feet  in  the  adjoining 
barracks  of  "K"  Troop,  the  quick,  stirring  peal  of 
trumpet,  sounding  some  unfamiliar  call.  Over 
strained  and  excited  as  were  her  nerves,  fearing  for 
him  against  whom  the  wrath  of  the  garrison  was 
roused,  she  could  only  connect  the  sounds  of  alarm 
and  confusion  with  him  and  his  hapless  fate.  She 
started  forward  to  call  the  colonel's  attention,  for 
among  the  dancers  the  sound  was  still  unheard. 
Again  the  shots  and  shouts,  the  rush  of  hurrying 
feet  on  the  broad  veranda  "without.  Again  and 
nearer,  quick  and  imperative,  the  thrilling  trumpet 
call.  Then,  close  at  hand  the  loud  bang  of  the  sen 
try's  carbine  and  the  stentorian  shout  of  "Fire!" 
And  then,  just  as  the  music  abruptly  ceased  in  re 
sponse  to  the  colonel's  signal,  bursting  in  at  the 
door,  followed  by  a  couple  of  troopers,  came  Rorke, 


FORT    FRAYNE.  207 

rushing  for  a  ladder  that  had  been  in  use  during  the 
day. 

"It's  that  madman,  Graice,  Sorr!"  he  cried  in 
answer  to  the  look  in  his  commander's  face.  "  He's 
fired  the  tower  and  he's  burning  to  death." 

Springing  to  the  window,  Helen  Dauuton  dashed 
aside  the  curtain,  and,  all  one  glare  of  flame,  the 
guardhouse  burst  upon  the  view.  A  black  ladder, 
silhouetted  against  the  blaze,  was  being  raised  at  the 
instant  the  curtain  fell  from  her  nerveless  hand. 
Will  seized  his  cap ,  made  one  leap  to  the  door,  de 
spite  Kitty's  frantic  effort  to  seize  him;  then,  missing 
his  sabre,  whirled  about  and  rushed  from  point  to 
point  in  search  of  it.  Divining  his  object,  the  girl 
threw  herself  in  front  of  the  settee,  behind  which 
she  had  concealed  it,  and,  when  he  sought  to  reach 
around  her,  desperately,  determinedly  fought  him 
off.  Seizing  a  cap,  the  colonel  vanished  into  the 
night.  Throwing  over  his  shoulders  the  first  mantle 
he  could  lay  his  hands  on— which  happened  to  be 
Lucretia's  — Wayne  followed  his  leader.  Will,  de 
layed  and  maddened,  only  succeeded  in  capturing  his 
sabre  by  forcibly  lifting  Kitty  out  of  the  way;  then 
he  sprang  to  the  doorway  to  join  the  men  hurrying 
from  distant  points  to  the  scene.  Ormsby,  too,  had 
rushed  after  the  colonel,  and  only  women  were  left 
upon  the  floor.  These,  horror-stricken,  yet  fasci 
nated,  had  gathered  about  the  eastward  window, 
where  Helen  Daunton  crouched,  unable  to  look  again 
upon  the  frightful  spectacle.  It  was  Ellis  who 


208  FORT    FRAYNE. 

hurled  aside  the  curtain,  just  as  old  Rorke,  re-enter 
ing,  sprang  to  the  middle  of  the  hall. 

"  Come  away,  ma'am!  For  the  love  of  God,  Miss, 
stand  clear  of  that  window!  The  poor  divil's  climbed 
to  the  top,  and  the  cannon  powdher's  in  the  tower." 

With  a  moan  of  despair,  Helen  burst  through  the 
group  and  toward  the  open  doorway,  as  though  she 
herself  would  hie  to  the  rescue.  Rorke,  with  one 
leap,  regained  the  threshold,  and  thrust  her  back. 

"My  God,  can  no  one  save  him?"  she  cried. 

"Save  him,  ma'am!  It's  sure  death  to  the  man 
that  dares  to  try  it.  Any  moment  it  may  blow  up. 
They're  rushing  clear  of  it  now.  The  colonel's 
ordered  them  all  back.  No!  God  of  hivvin,  some 
one's  climbing  the  ladder  now!  It's  Captain  Leale! 
Oh,  don't  let  him,  men!  dhrive  him  back!  Oh,  what 
use  is  it?  Did  man  ever  live  that  could  turn 
Malcolm  Leale  from  the  duty  he  deemed  his  own?" 
And  away  rushed  poor  Terry.  Ellis  sprang  to 
her  mother's  side  just  as,  to  the  accompaniment 
of  a  shriek  from  Kitty's  lips,  there  came  a  dull  roar, 
followed  by  a  sudden  thud  and  crash  of  falling  tim 
bers,  and  the  hoarse  shouts  of  excited  men.  An  in 
stant  later,  Ormsby,  nearly  breathless,  leaped  in  at 
the  door. 

"They'll  have  to  bring  him  in  here.  Leale  would 
have  saved  him  if  he  hadn't  jumped.  Ellis,  your 
mother  must  not  see  his  face.  Take  her  into  the 
dressing  room." 

"And  why?  "  cried  Ellis.  "The  lives  of  our  best 
and  bravest  have  been  risked  to  save  that  worthless 


FORT    FRAYNE.  209 

life?  This  is  no  place  for  him.  He  shall  not  be 
brought  here." 

"Hush,"  said  Ormsby,  in  a  low,  intense  tone. 
"In  God's  name,  Ellis,  hush!  The  man  on  that 
Htter  is  your  mother's  son — your  own  brother — Royle 
Farrar.  That  is  the  secret  I  was  guarding  for  Helen 
Daunton — your  brother's  wife." 

A  moment  later  as  the  women  gathered  about  Mrs. 
Farrar,  obedient  to  Ormsby' s  murmured  injunction 
to  keep  her  from  seeing  the  face  of  the  dying  man, 
lest  it  prove  too  severe  a  shock  to  her  weakened 
heart,  the  men  came  solemnly,  bearing  a  stretcher 
on  which  lay  the  blanket-covered  form,  followed  by 
a  silent  group  of  officers.  The  doctor  simply 
touched  the  wrist,  gave  one  glance  into  the  scorched 
and  blistered  face,  shook  his  head,  and  drew  the 
blanket.  Kitty,  sobbing,  clung  to  Willy's  arm, 
their  quarrel  forgotten.  Helen,  who  had  thrown 
herself  almost  hysterically  upon  her  knees  at  the 
stretcher's  side,  turned  in  added  terror  at  the  words 
of  the  colonel,  "Another  patient,  doctor,"  for  at  the 
instant,  supported  by  Wayne  and  others,  Malcolm 
Leale  Avas  led  within  the  doorway,  a  handkerchief 
pressed  to  his  eyes. 

"He  got  the  full  flash  of  that  explosion  in  his 
face,"  murmured  the  old  soldier,  as  the  doctor  met 
them.  Then,  in  the  solemn  presence  of  death,  in 
the  hush  and  silence  of  the  throng,  Mrs.  Farrar 
stepped  forward  and  laid  her  white  hand  gently,  rev 
erently  upon  the  lifeless  breast. 

"Reckless  and  hardened  he  may  have  been,"  she 


210  FORT    FRAYNE. 

said,  "but  somewhere — somewhere,  I  know  a 
mother's  heart  is  yearning  over  him  and  a  mother's 
lips  are  praying  for  the  boy  she  loves." 

And  so  it  happened  that  only  one  or  two  could 
hear  the  single,  whispered  word  with  which  the  doc 
tor  turned  to  his  commander  after  one  brief  look  into 
Malcolm's  eyes. 

"Blind!" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

JACK  OKMSBY  did  not  go  East  by  the  first  train 
after  the  Christmas  ball,  as  had  been  his  purpose,  but 
he  saw  no  more  of  the  lady  of  his  love.  Late  that 
dreadful  night,  rousing  for  a  few  moments  from  the 
stupor  into  which  she  had  been  thrown  by  the  an 
nouncement  that  it  was  her  own  brother  who  lay 
there  downstricken  in  the  rnidst  of  his  career  of  crime 
and  shame,  Ellis  Farrar,  little  by  little,  realized  the 
whole  miserable  truth — that  he,  her  brother,  was  the 
man  who  had  wrecked  Helen  Daunton's  life — Helen, 
who  to  spare  that  invalid  mother  an  added  sorrow, 
had  hidden  from  her  the  name  of  the  man  whose 
brutal  blows  and  curses  had  rewarded  her  love. 
More  than  all  did  Ellis  realize  that  the  lover,  whose 
loyalty  and  devotion  she  herself  had  repaid  with 
scorn  and  contempt,  had  suffered  her  words  in  silence 
rather  than  betray  another  woman's  confidence  and 
thereby  divulge  a  truth  that  would  overwhelm  with 
shame  all  who  bore  the  name  of  Farrar.  Then  it 
was  that,  hysterically  weeping,  she  broke  clown  utterly 
and  before  the  setting  of  another  sun  the  mother  and 
all  the  household  learned  from  her  lips  that  it  was  all 
that  was  left  of  Royle  Farrar  that  now  lay  there, 
cold  and  stiff  and  still  in  that  bare,  echoing  ward  of 
the  old  hospital,  awaiting  the  last  volleys  and  the 
solemn  trumpet  salutation  to  the  soldier  dead. 

Only  a  corporal's  guard  formed  the    firing  party, 


212  FORT    FRAYNE. 

when,  just  before  sundown,  the  remains  of  "  Private 
Graice  "  were  laid  in  the  bleak,  snow-covered  ceme 
tery  out  on  the  rolling  prairie,  but  more  than  a  dozen 
men  in  the  crowded  garrison  knew  by  that  time  that 
the  folds  of  the  flag  were  draped  over  the  mortal 
remains  of  a  colonel's  son. 

It  was  an  awe-stricken  group  that  gathered  about 
the  hospital  when  the  bearers  came  forth  with  their 
burden  and  placed  it  in  the  waiting  ambulance,  and 
the  firing  squad  presented  arms.  The  idea  of  the 
recreant — the  would-be  murderer,  Tom  Graice — being 
buried  with  military  honors  had  not  occurred  to  the 
garrison  as  a  possibility.  Yet  here  was  the  little 
escort,  here  were  the  trumpeters,  (the  band  had  been 
mercifully  excused),  here  were  pall  bearers  from  his 
troop  instead  of  from  among  the  garrison  prisoners, 
as  might  have  been  ruled  when  one  of  their  number 
died;  here  were  old  Terry  Rorke,  and  some  of  the 
senior  sergeants  of  the  regiment ;  here,  indeed,  with 
pallid  face  was  young  Lieutenant  Farrar,  with  him 
Mr.  Ormsby,  the  adjutant,  quartermaster,  the  sur 
geon,  and  one  or  two  veteran  captains,  Major  Wayne, 
and  even  Colonel  Feuton  himself!  Who  ever  heard 
of  such  an  array  as  that  attending  the  obsequies  of  a 
criminal?  Fort  Frayne  was  mystified  and  talked  of 
it  for  hours,  but  the  story  told  itself  before  tattoo 
and  the  mystery  was  done. 

They  had  buried 'the  first  born  of  the  colonel 
whom  all  men  loved  and  honored  and  mourned,  and 
old  Fenton  had  himself  decided  that,  as  Graice  had 
never  yet  been  tried  and  convicted,  and  could  never 


FORT    FRAYXE.  213 

appear  before  an  earthly  tribunal,  he  must  be  con 
sidered  as  innocent,  and  so  issued  the  order  that  no 
military  honor  should  be  denied,  except  the  band. 
It  was  too  bitterly  cold  for  them  to  attempt  to  play, 
for  the  valves  of  the  instruments  would  freeze  at 
once,  and  it  was  deemed  best  that  no  sound  of  the 
dirge  music  should  reach  the  ears  of  Marjorie  Farrar. 
Xeither  she  nor  Ellis  knew  when  the  funeral  took 
place — Mrs.  Farrar  learning  only  on  the  following 
day,  Ellis  not  until  weeks  thereafter,  for,  as  a  result 
of  all  the  long,  gradual  strain,  culminating  in  the 
shock  of  that  tragic  night,  and  the  realization  of  the 
wrong  she  had  done  the  honest  man  who  had  so 

0 

loved  her,  her  strength  gave  way,  and  brain  fever 
and  delirium  supervened.  In  the  week  that  followed 
that  hapless  holiday,  Ellis  hovered  on  the  border 
land  'Uvixt  life  and  death,  and  no  man  could  say 
that  the  fatal  Christmastide  might  not  claim  still 
another  of  the  Farrars. 

And  that  week  was  one  of  woe  to  poor  Jack  Ormsby. 
He  haunted  the  neighborhood  of  the  Farrars;  he 
hung  about  the  gateAvay,  importuning  the  doctor,  the 
colonel,  Kitty,  Will  —  anybody  —  for  tidings  of  the 
girl  he  loved.  His  tine,  alert,  intelligent  face  was 
clouded  with  the  dread  and  sorrow  that  overcame  him. 
lie  could  not  see  Mrs.  Farrar — she  rarely  moved 
from  her  stricken  daughter's  side- — but  twice  he 
saw  and  talked  with  Helen,  and  once,  with  her, 
walked  out  to  visit  the  new-made  grave.  All  that  week 
the  shadows  cast  by  the  glare  of  the  guard-house  flames 
seemed  to  wrap  Fort  Frayne  in  gloom,  and  people 


214  FORT    FRAYNE. 

gazed  upon  the  black  ruins  only  with  a  shudder. 
The  Indians,  ever  superstitious,  had  professed  to  see 
the  hand  of  the  Great  Spirit  in  the  clouds,  pointing 
remorselessly  at  the  spot,  and  warning  them  of  fur 
ther  wrath  to  come,  as  a  consequence  of  the  un 
avenged  murder  of  a  chieftain's  son.  Cowboys  and 
"  hustlers,"  angered  against  the  garrison  because  it 
had  interposed  between  them  and  their  purposed 
punishment  of  Big  Road's  band,  saw  here  a  capi 
tal  opportunity  of  embroiling  the  red  men  with 
their  white  defenders.  By  dozens,  in  shivering 
silence,  wrapped  in  their  blankets  and  seated  on 
their  scraggy  ponies,  the  warriors  had  looked  on  at 
the  solemn  little  ceremony,  and  within  another  day 
by  scores  the  cowboys  and  settlers  were  spreading 
the  story  that  the  white  chief  had  buried  Tom 
Graice,  with  all  the  honors  of  war  despite  his 
crimes  and  misdemeanors,  simply  because  he  had 
killed  the  son  of  an  Indian  chief — the  sou  of  the 
chief  whose  people  killed  the  colonel  of  the  Twelfth 
when  he  attacked  the  fleeing  village  on  the  Mini  Pusa 
three  long  years  before.  It  was  the  white  soldiers' 
way  of  taunting  the  red  man.  It  was  proof  of  his 
real  feeling  toward  the  Indian. 

"Look  out  for  yourself,  Big  Road!"  said  these 
astute,  frontier  statesmen;  "Chief  Fenton  and  his  sol 
diers  have  only  lured  you  here  within  range  of  their 
walls, that  they  may  the  more  readily  swoop  upon  you 
some  bitter  morning,  and  put  you  and  your  warriors, 
your  women  and  children  to  the  sword."  In  the  in 
tense  cold  of  the  three  days  that  succeeded  the  blizzard, 


PORT    FRAYNE.  21  b 

there  was  no  interchange  of  visits,  so  to  speak,  be 
tween  the  fort  and  the  Indian  village,  but  the  emis 
saries  of  Ben  Thorpe  had  been  busily  at  work.  Big 
Road  and  his  warriors  had  been  bidden  to  attend  the 
stately  funeral  of  their  kinsman  and  friend,  Crow 
Knife,  on  the  morning  after  Christmas,  and  had 
flocked  to  the  scene  and  lifted  up  their  mournful 
chant  when  the  volleys  flashed  and  the  crowd  of  at 
tendant  soldiers  bowed  their  heads  in  mins;led  horn- 

~ 

age  and  sorrow.  That  was  as  it  should  be,  but  what 
did  it  mean  that  his  slayer  should  then  be  accorded 
equal  honors — aye,  that  more  officers— chiefs — Avere 
present  at  Graice's  grave  than  when  the  son  of  a 
Brule  warrior  was  laid  to  rest?  This  they  could  not 
fathom,  and  this,  despite  the  strained  relations  that 
had  resulted  in  the  death  of  Laramie  Pete,  the  cow 
boy  emissaries  proved  eager  to  explain  in  their  own 
way  and  to  explain  to  attentive  ears. 

"Old  Fenton  thought  he'd  done  me  when  he 
moved  that  bloody  band  up  here  to  the  fort,"  said 
the  cowboy  king  to  his  admiring  audience,  over  at 
the  saloon  across  the  Platte.  "  If  I  don't  pay  him 
off  with  compound  interest  within  the  month  and 
make  him  wish  he  hadn't  monkeyed  with  my  business, 
call  me  a  coyote.  He  and  the  stuck-up  gang  he 
heads  will  wish  to  God  they'd  left  those  Indians 
where  they  were." 

And  five  days  after  Christmas  Colonel  Fenton 
heard  of  goings  on  within  the  village  that  gave  him 
cause  to  summon  his  adjutant  and  officer  of  the  day, 
to  double  his  sentries  on  every  front,  and  to  realize 


216  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

how  much  in  these  few  years  he  had  learned  to  lean 
for  counsel  and  support  on  Malcolm  Leale,  for  now 
the  colonel  was  forbidden,  as  was  everybody  else,  to 
see  him,  even  for  a  moment.  Not  only  had  the  flash 
of  the  explosion  wrecked  his  eyesight,  but  there  was 
grave  reason  to  fear  that  he  had  inhaled  the  flame. 
Captain  Leale  was  suffering  torment,  yet  bearing  his 
burden  without  a  moan. 

A  troubled  man  was  the  veteran  post  surgeon  all 
that  woeful  week.  Ellis  Farrar,  delirious  in  burning 
fever,  Malcolm  Leale  prostrate  on  a  bed  of  pain, 
blind,  and  breathing  only  in  agonized  gasps;  Mrs. 
Farrar  looking  so  fragile  and  weak  that  it  seemed 
as  though  a  breath  might  blow  away  the  feeble 
flicker  of  her  life;  others  of  the  women  more  or  less 
overcome  and  shocked  by  the  events  of  the  last  few 
days,  and  now,  right  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  came  in 
dications  of  trouble  in  the  Indian  village  up  the 
stream — powwowing,  speechmaking,  and  dancing  by 
night,  runners  flitting  to  and  from  the  Big  Horn, 
messengers  darting  in  from  other  tribes — and,  when 
Fenton  sent  for  Big  Road  to  come  into  the  office  and 
explain  the  chief  temporized,  expressed  himself  as 
suspicious  of  some  plot  to  separate  him  from  his  peo 
ple  and  to  hold  him  as  hostage  at  the  fort.  If  Col 
onel  Fenton  desired  to  talk  let  Colonel  Fenton  come 
to  the  council  lodge  at  the  village  but  leave  his  sol- 

o  o 

diers  behind.  Big  Road's  old  men  had  seen  visions 
and  had  heard  warnings;  his  medicine  chiefs  had  been 
signaled  by  the  Great  Spirit;  his  young  men  were 


FORT    FEAYXE.  217 

excited  and  alarmed;  his  women  were  weeping  and 
gathering  their  children  to  their  knees.  If  the 
white  chief  meant  peace  and  friendship,  let  him 
show  it  by  coming  to  his  lodge  with  gifts  in  his 
hands,  instead  of  guns.  He,  the  white  chief,  was 
rich,  and  his  horses  and  his  young  men  were  fat  and 
strong.  Big  Road  was  poor  and  his  people  were 
hungry  and  cold;  his  ponies  dying.  Fenton,  indeed, 
would  have  gone  with  only  his  adjutant  and  inter 
preter  and  a  single  orderly  but  for  the  warning  of  a 
Brule  girl,  who  had  lef*  her  people  a  few  yeais  be 
fore  to  follow  a  soldier  lover,  and  had  made  her 
home  among  the  whites,  a  patient,  sorrowing  woman, 
ever  since  his  untimely  death.  The  Amorys  had  pro 
vided  for  her  in  every  way,  for  the  soldier  was  one 
of  the  captain's  troop,  and  she  had  grown  deeply 
attached  to  them,  even  though  now  occasionally  vis 
iting  her  kindred. 

It  was  at  luncheon,  talking  to  his  wife,  that  Amory 
told  of  Colonel  Fenton's  purpose  of  riding  over  to 
the  village  that  very  afternoon,  and  the  story  was  re 
peated  iii  the  kitchen,  where  it  reached  the  ears  of 
the  Indian  girl.  In  an  instant  she  had  darted  out  of 
the  house  and  gone  to  the  colonel's,  where  she  fright 
ened  Lucretia  out  of  her  seven  senses  with  the  first 
words  she  uttered:  "  They  kill  the  colonel!  He  no 
go!"  Luckily,  Y>Tayne  was  at  hand  to  soothe,  sup 
port  and  explain.  Other  officers  were  sent  for,  and, 
despite  Teuton's  pooh-poohing,  so  strong  were  their 
arguments  that  at  two  o'clock  a  messenger  was  dis 
patched  to  Big  Head's  bailiwick  to  tell  him  the 


218  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

colonel  had  heard  that  which  made  him  say  to  the 
Indian  chief  that  now  the  only  way  in  which  he 
would  meet  him  would  be  at  the  adjutant's  office,  as 
originally  proposed,  or  else  alone  and  unarmed  mid 
way  between  the  fort  and  the  village,  no  soldiers  or 
warriors  being  allowed  to  approach  within  two  hun 
dred  yards,  unless,  indeed,  Big  Road  himself  should 
propose  an  adj  utant  for  each.  If  this  was  satisfactory, 
let  the  time  be  set  for  three  o'clock  and  Fenton 
would  be  there.  The  half-breed  messenger  came  back 
in  half  an  hour.  "  Big  Road  would  scud  his  answer 
by  a  squaw, ' '  and  that  was  Big  Road's  way  of  say- 
ing  that  the  white  chief  was  an  old  woman.  Utterly 
forgetful  now  of  the  service  Fentou  had  rendered  his 
people  and  him,  duped  by  the  visions  of  his  medi 
cine  men,  and  fuddled  with  the  liquor  lavished  on 
him  by  the  cowboys,  Big  Road  was  hot  for  war. 

No  squaw  came;  no  conference  took  place.  Dark 
ness  was  settling  down  upon  the  post  when  at  last 
the  westward  sentries  reported  a  small  party  of  In 
dians  riding  out  from  the  village  toward  Fort  Frayne. 
The  trumpeters  were  just  scattering  after  sounding 
retreat,  when  the  officer  of  the  day  conveyed  the 
news  to  Fenton,  and  in  two  minutes  an  officer,  with 
a  dozen  men,  trotted  out  from  the  stables  of  Troop 
kiK"  and  four  hundred  yards  beyond  the  sentry  post 
signaled  to  the  advancing  warriors:  "Halt!  " 

There  were  ten  in  the  party,  and  Big  Road  was  not 
among  them.  The  officers,  returning  from  stables 
;;nd  retreat  roll  call,  had  gathered  about  the  colonel 
on  the  westward  bluff,  and  field  glasses  were  brought 


FORT    FRAYNE.  219 

to  bear  on  the  opposing  parties,  now  only  dimly  vis 
ible  in  the  gloaming.  Over  at  the  barracks  the  men 
were  still  gathered  about  their  respective  parades, 
despite  the  fact  that  supper  was  ready  and  they  as 
ready  for  supper.  All  over  the  garrison  had  gone  the 
rumor  of  Big  Road's  hostile  and  defiant  message,  and 
the  troops  were  wrathful  at  the  indignity  put  upon 
their  colonel.  Some  of  them  had  stepped  inside  the 
quarters  and  were  quietly  examining  their  belts  and 
equipments,  and  counting  the  cartridges  in  their 
boxes.  Ormsby,  sharing  the  suppressed  excitement, 
had  hastened  out  to  join  his  friends  of  the  Twelfth, 
his  nerves  tingling  again  at  the  thought  of  the  pos 
sibility  of  a  skirmish,  and  now  he  stood  with  Fenton 
close  at  hand,  waiting  eagerly  for  the  first  develop 
ments. 

But  little  time  was  wasted.  There  was  a  brief  par 
ley  between  the  lieutenant  with  the  troopers  and  a 
formidable-looking  Indian  who  seemed  to  lead  the 
others.  Then  the  officer  turned  and  sent  a  man  gal 
loping  back  to  the  post.  In  four  minutes  he  was  in 
the  colonel's  presence,  dismounted,  and  making  his 
report. 

"Big  Road's  compliments — I  mean,  the  lieu 
tenant's  compliments,  sir — and  Big  Road  sends  his 
delegation  for  three  wagonloads  of  meat,  flour, 
sugar,  ami  coffee,  sir,  and  says  as  the  colonel  hasn't 
come  to  see  him,  he's  going  to  move." 

The  colonel  laughed — the  first  laugh  since  Christ 
mas,  somebody  remarked  at  the  time.  "Are  you 
sure  there's  no  mistake,  Fallen V"  he  asked  the 
messenger. 


220  FORT    FRAYNE. 

"  That's  what  the  lieutenant  asked  the  Indians, 
sir,  but  we  have  two  of  "L"  Troop  with  us — what's 
left  of  'em — one  Brule  and  t'other  Ogallalla,  and 
they  both  translate  it  the  same  way,  and  Bat  is  with 
us,  too,  sir;  and  he  says  it's  like  Big  Road  when 
he  gets  liquor  in  him.  He  thinks  he's  lord  of  the 
earth.  Bat  says  he's  drunk  now,  and  believes  the 
colonel  will  be  glad  to  do  as  he  demands  for  fear 
of  him." 

"  Well,  who  brought  the  message?  Who's  that 
big  buck  in  the  lead  there?" 

"  That's  One-Eyed  Bull,  sir — him  that  was  nursed 
in  the  hospital  here  after  the  fight  three  years  ago." 

"Bull?  lie  ought  to  know  better  than  to  bring 
any  such  message,"  said  Fenton,  reflectively.  "  I 
presume  he  dare  not  refuse,  however.  Mr.  Ad 
jutant,  mount  Fallon's  horse,  gallop  out  there,  and 
tell  Bull  to  tell  Big  Road  to  go  to  the  devil.  That's 
all  on  that  head.  Captain  Farwell,  as  soon  as  your 
men  have  had  supper,  let  them  saddle  and  be  ready 
for  night  work.  Orderly,  have  my  horse  sent  up  in 
half  an  hour.  That's  all  for  the  present,  gentlemen. 
Come,  Jack — Lou's  waiting  dinner  for  us." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  any  one  had  seen  Fenton 
mad,  as  Amory  put  it,  when  the  group  broke  up. 
•'Either  Big  Road  will  come  down  off  that  high 
horse  or  the  old  man  will  snatch  him,  and  within 
the  next  few  hours,  too.  Ormsby  brings  us  luck. 
He  never  comes  out  here  that  we  don't  have  a  shindy 
of  some  kind." 


FOET    FRAYXE.  221 

More  than  one  officer  was  thinking  of  this  remark 
of  Amory's  as  they  scattered  to  their  homes.  Many  a 
dinner  was  kept  waiting  and  many  a  housewife  had 
to  be  placated  when  the  lord  and  master  hurried  in, 
and  tongues  that  were  primed  with  wifely  reproof 
were  stilled  l>y  the  tidings  that  quickly  spread  from 
door  to  door.  Big  Road  had  made  an  insolent  de 
mand,  and  coupled  with  it  a  defiant  message.  Big 
Road  was  drunk  and  had  threatened  to  move  with 
his  village,  and  then  it  would  become  the  duty  of 
the  Twelfth  to  surround  and  herd  him  back.  Under 
the  stipulation  of  a  late  treaty,  lie  was  allowed  for 
his  winter  range,  only  the  south  bank  of  the  Platte, 
from  Frayne  to  the  breaks  of  the  Medicine  Bow.  If 
he  crossed  the  Platte  and  struck  out  for  the  Big 

o 

Horn,  he  invaded  the  cattle  lands  and  laid  himself 
open  to  attack  from  the  "hustlers."  If  he  dove  into 
the  mountain  range  to  the  south,  he  left  his  reserva 
tion  and  forfeited  the  rations  and  supplies  which 
the  agent  at  Fetterman  Bend  was  bound  to  issue  at 
regular  intervals.  He  had  quarreled  with  the  agent 
and  moved  his  village  up  stream  to  within  ten  miles 
of  Frayne— which  he  had  a  right  to  do.  He  had 
quarreled  with,  and  on  good  grounds,  the  cowboys, 
and  then  taken  under  the  wing  of  Uncle  Sam  for 
safety,  and  now  he  proposed  quarreling  with  his 
benefactors  and  launching  out  on  forbidden  territory, 
and  that  meant  business  for  all  at  Frayne. 

But  One-eyed  Bull  was  no  truculent  warrior.  He 
had  delivered  his  message  in  accordance  with  his 
chief's  demands,  and  in  far  more  civil  tone  and  terms 


222  FORT    FRAYNE. 

than  it  was  consigned  to  him;  then  had  waited  in 
dignified  silence,  confronting  the  somewhat  flippant 
blue  coats  from  the  fort,  refusing  to  make  any  re 
sponse  to  the  jocularity  and  ridicule  in  which  some 
of  their  number  indulged,  or  to  enter  into  any  dis 
cussion  with  Bat  or  the  two  Indian  soldiers  as  to  the 
probable  inspiration  of  Big  Road's  bombast.  Well 
enough  he  realized  when  the  adjutant  arrived  upon 
the  scene  that  the  "bluff  "had  totally  failed,  and 
before  a  word  was  spoken  read  contemptuous  refusal 
in  the  young  officer's  face.  They  were  indeed  cold 
and  hungry  over  in  the  village,  and  he  himself  and 
the  warriors  with  him  would  have  been  glad  of  a 
feast  on  army  rations.  Nor  were  the  warriors  at  all 
satisfied  with  the  judgment  and  discretion  of  their 
chief,  but  one  and  all  the  Indians  were  now  im 
bued  with  the  warning  of  their  medicine  men,  and 
expected  nothing  less  than  some  sudden  act  of  hos 
tility  on  the  soldiers'  part.  If  there  ever  was  a  time 
in  Big  Road's  history  when  a  clear  head  and  cool 
brain  were  needed,  it  was  now,  just  when  he  had 
succeeded  in  getting  drunk,  and  well  had  the  cow 
boys  reasoned.  While  some  of  the  number  lured 
the  chief  to  the  banks  of  the  Platte  and  plied  him 
with  lies  and  whiskey,  others  were  scurrying  up  and 
down  the  valley,  routing  out  the  ranchmen,  settlers, 
and  "hustlers,"  and  warning  them  to  be  in  readiness 
to  gather  at  the  given  signal,  for  there  was  no  tell 
ing  what  would  be  the  first  consequence  of  their 
diplomacy.  If  Big  Road  simply  broke  camp  and 
started  with  his  whole  village  in  the  dead  of  night 


FORT   FKAYNE.  223 

in  hopes  of  leading  the  soldiers  a  stern  chase  to  the 
Big  Horn,  they  could  stumble  in  his  way,  impede 
his  fight,  and  bring  on  a  row  in  which,  with  vastly 
superior  numbers,  they  could  at  least  rob  the  red 
men  of  their  pony  herd.  That  would  be  part  satis 
faction  for  the  death  of  Laramie  Pete.  Then,  when 
the  soldiers  came  up,  they  could  sail  in  after  them 
and  claim  such  spoil  as  was  worth  having  and  all  the 
credit  of  having  brought  the  chief  to  bay.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  Big  Road  became  so  crazed  with 
their  fire-water  as  to  go  down  and  beard  the  lion  in 
his  den  and  defy  the  cavalry  at  the  fort,  then  there 
might  be  a  pretty  scrimmage  right  over  on  the  flats 
when  the  colonel  ordered  the  chief's  arrest,  and 
when  the  soldiers  were  tackling  the  warriors  in  the 
open  and  having  a  nip-and-tuck  fight  of  it  the 
frontiersmen  could  surround  the  village  and  help 
themselves.  There  would  be  only  old  men  and 
women  and  children  to  defend  it.  There  was  gloom, 
therefore,  in  Bull's  sole  remaining  optic  as  he  re 
ceived  in  majestic  silence  the  adjutant's  indignant 
rendering  of  the  colonel's  message,  and,  motioning 
to  his  blanketed  braves  to  follow,  he  turned  about 
and  rode  away. 

"What  do  you  think  they'll  do?"  was  the  eager 
question  asked  the  adjutant  on  his  return  to  the 
post.  "Is  he  mad  enough  to  mean  fight?  " 

"He  is,  if  he  doesn't  get  any  drunker,"  was  the 
answer.  "More  whiskey  would  be  the  surest  way  of 
settling  the  question  now,  but  it  would  rob  us  of  the 


224  PORT    FEAYNE. 

pleasure  of  knocking  him  out — and  be  damned  to 
him  for  spoiling  my  dinner!" 

At  eight  o'clock  that  night,  with  one  platoon  in 
dispersed  order  well  to  the  front,  and  others  in  re 
serve,  while  the  garrison  of  Fort  Frayne  stood  by 
their  arms  within  the  fort,  Captain  Farwell's  troop 
moved  slowly  up  the  dark  valley,  along  the  snow- 
covered  flats,  out  beyond  the  point  where  the  delega 
tion  was  met  at  dusk  and  held  at  bay,  and,  though 
the  stars  were  glinting  in  the  frosty  sky  and  not  a 
breath  of  air  was  stirring,  and  the  night  was  still  as 
solitude  itself,  not  a  whisper  could  be  heard  from 
the  direction  of  the  village,  not  a  spark  of  fire  could 
be  seen.  Over  against  them  on  the  northern  shore 
Avere  sounds  at  times  as  of  rapid  hoof  beats,  muffled 
by  the  snow.  Half  a  mile  out  a  horseman  loomed 
up  at  the  front,  and  in  a  moment  was  merged  in  the 
advancing  line. 

"What  is  it,  sergeant?  What  news  have  you?" 
asked  the  young  platoon  commander. 

"They're  off,  sir!  A  whole  gang  of  old  folks  and 
women  on  ponies  and  travois  has  started  across  the 
Platte.  The  warriors  are  all  there  yet.  You'll  hear 
Big  Road  shouting  in  a  minute.  lie's  fighting  full 
and  is  urging  on  some  deviltry — I  can't  make  out 
what,  but  from  all  we  can  understand  of  it  he  wants 
to  lead  a  rush  through  the  stables  to  capture  or  kill  the 
horses.  He's  just  drunk  enough  to  try,  but  the 
others  won't  let  him.  They  declare  they  won't  fol 
low  him.  They  know  too  much.  What  they  want 
to  do  is  to  get  out  and  reach  Trooper  Creek  to-night, 
I  reckon." 


FORT    FRAYNE.  225 

"  Ride  back,  then,  and  let  the  captain  know.  Who 
else  are  out  at  the  front  on  watch?" 

' '  Only  Rorke  and  two  or  three  of  the  Indian  troop, 
sir.  They  are  taking  care  of  themselves,  though." 

And  then  for  a  moment  the  forward  movement 
ceased.  "  Halt!  Halt!  "  were  the  low-toned  orders 
of  the  non-commissioned  officers  dispersed  along  the 
line,  and,  under  the  twinkling  stars,  dim,  ghostly, 
and  silent,  the  extended  rank  of  riders  seemed  as  one 
man  to  1'ein  in  and  wait.  Here  and  there  an  impa 
tient  charger  began  to  paw  the  snow,  and  others 
sniffed  suspiciously  and  cocked  their  pointed  ears  in 
the  direction  of  the  unseen  village.  Some  young 
troopers,  tremulous  with  excitement  and  cold  com 
bined,  began  to  slap  their  fur-gloved  hands  on  breast 
or  thigh  and  had  to  be  sternly  called  to  order.  Pres 
ently  a  muffled  horseman  came  riding  up  from  the 
rear,  a  trumpeter  in  his  tracks. 

"That's  right,  Martin.  You  did  well  to  halt  a 
minute.  I've  sent  back  word  to  Colonel  Fenton. 
He  had  wired  to  the  agency  before  we  pulled  out." 

"Can't  we  turn  'em  back  without  his  authority, 
sir?" 

"Xo;  even  when  we  know  they  mean  to  cross  the 
Platte.  But  orders  will  come  to-night.  The  wires 
are  working  well." 

"Captain,  did  you  hear  what  Captain  Amory  said 
this  evening?"  asked  the  youngster,  as  he  edged  in 
closer  to  the  elder's  side,  "  that  Orrnsby  never  came 
out  here  that  we  didn't  have  a  shindy  with  the 
Sioux?" 


226  FORT    1'BAYNE. 

"Yes;  but  poor  Jack  is  out  of  the  dance  this  time 
and  can't  be  with  us,  as  he  was  before." 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Martin,  having  some 
vague  theory  that  the  illness  of  Miss  Farrar  was  at 
the  bottom  of  Ormsby's  inability  to  take  part  in  the 
promised  chase.  "I — didn't  suppose  any  thing  could 
keep  him  from  taking  a  hand  in  soldier  service." 

"Well,  that's  just  it!  Those  fellows  in  the  Seventh 
are  as  punctilious  on  a  point  of  duty  as  any  man  we 
know  in  the  army.  Ormsby  promised  to  be  back 
with  his  company  for  some  review  or  ceremony  with 
in  this  week.  He's  got  to  go.  They've  telegraphed 
to  remind  him,  and  he  has  just  time,  barring  acci 
dent,  to  make  the  trip." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

NIXE  o'clock,  ten  o'clock  of  that  wintry  evening 
came,  but  no  orders.  Fenton  had  reported  the  situ 
ation  by  wire  to  department  headquarters  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  had  twice  sent  messages  to  the  agency. 
In  answer  to  these  latter  came  characteristic  appeals 
to  do  nothing  to  excite  or  exasperate  Big  Road,  but 
to  induce  him  to  remain  where  he  was  until  he,  the 
agent,  could  come  and  confer  with  him, — he'd  be 
along  the  first  train  in  the  morning.  To  this  Fenton 
responded  that,  unless  he  was  permitted  to  go  out, 
surround,  and  arrest  him  and  his  principal  braves  at 
once,  Big  Road  would  break  camp  and  be  off  before 
the  rising  of  another  sun.  Fenton  felt  sure  of  it. 
To  this  came  response  that  such  a  course  would  only 
anger  the  Indians,  who  were  very  sensitive  to  any 
thing  that  looked  like  coercion,  and  that  until  they 
had  actually  crossed  the  Platte  no  steps  such  as  were 
indicated  by  Colonel  Fenton  should  be  taken.  Still, 
they  should  not  be  allowed  to  attempt  to  cross. 

"Now,  how  on  earth,"  said  Fenton,  "am  I  to  pre 
vent  their  doing  that  without  something  that  looks 
like  coercion?  If  I  can't  stop  them,  I  at  least  won't 
lose  touch,"  said  he.  And  so,  while  the  rest  of  the 
command  was  held  in  readiness,  Farwell's  troop  had 
been  dispatched,  as  we  have  seen,  with  orders  to  ob 
serve  and  follow — but  not  to  interfere  with  the 
movements  of  the  village.  Up  to  ten  o'clock,  as  he 

227 


22b  FORT    FRAYNE. 

learned  through  Indian  scouts,  only  women  and  chil 
dren,  old  men,  old  ponies,  and  dogs  had  been  spirited 
away.  With  them  went  perhaps  half  a  dozen  war 
riors  as  guards  against  night  attack  from  hostile 
white  men,  but  the  main  body  still  hung  about  the 
site  of  the  dismantled  village.  Big  Road  wanted 
more  talk  with  the  cowboys — and  more  firewater. 

Now  Avas  the  very  time  to  attempt  the  arrest  since 
none  but  warriors  remained — none  but  fighting 
braves  would  suffer  if  they  resisted  and  opened  fire, 
and,  all  eagerness,  Fai'well  sent  back  messengers 
explaining  the  situation  and  asking  from  his  colonel 
authority  to  do  something.  Eleven  o'clock  came  and 
still  no  orders  reached  Fenton,  either  from  the  gen 
eral  commanding  or  his  chief  of  staff;  no  further 
authority  from  the  agency.  It  looked  as  though  the 
wintry  night  would  be  allowed  to  slip  away,  and  the 
Indians  with  it,  and  that  meant  that  more  of  their 
Christmas  holidays  would  be  lost  to  the  Twelfth 
through  having  to  go  campaigning  in  the  biting  cold. 
Taps  sounded  at  eleven,  and  Fenton,  disgusted,  gave 
orders  that  the  command  should  unsaddle  and  go  to 
barracks,  but  practically  to  sleep  on  their  arms. 
Meanwhile  luckless  Farwell  and  his  fellows  would 
have  to  make  a  night  of  it  up  the  Platte,  and  already 
two  poor  boys  were  sent  in,  numb  and  more  than 
half  frozen. 

The  waning  moon  was  not  yet  risen,  and  the  dark 
ness  was  intense,  but  for  the  glinting  of  the  stars  on 
the  snowy  surface;  yet  keen-eyed  scouts  hung  close 
to  the  site  of  the  Indian  camp  and  sharp  ears  noted 


FORT    FKAYXE.  229 

every  sound.  .There  was  a  guffaw  of  derisive 
laughter  among  the  blanketed  warriors  in  answer  to 
the  faint,  far-away  sounding  of  "lights  out." 

"  Small  use  to  sound  '  lights  out,'  whin  it's  lightin' 
out  thim  blackguards  are  doing  already,"  growled 
old  Rorke  to  his  fellow-trooper.  "It's  many  a 
Christmas  they've  spoiled  for  me  and  mine,  and  now 
they  do  be  drawin'  on  the  New  Year's  party,  too. 
It's  in  the  Big  Horn  we'll  be  against  Sunday  next,  or 
I'm  a  Jew." 

"That's  the  prettiest  country  in  the  world  for 
fishin'  and  fighting,"  was  the  answer,  "but  I've  no 
likin'  for  it  when  the  covvld  would  freeze  the  soup 
twixt  the  mug  and  the  mouth.  Who's  yon?"  he 
broke  off  suddenly,  bringing  his  fur-guarded  thumb 
to  the  hammer  of  his  carbine  and  indicating  with  a 
nod  of  his  head  a  dim,  dark  shape  coming  crouching 
toward  them  through  the  starlight. 

"Halt,  there!  "  was  Rorke's  gruff,  muttered  chal 
lenge,  at  the  instant.  "  Rise  up,  you,  and  say  who 
ye  are.  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it,  Pollywog?  Come  in 
from  under  yer  head  an'  explain  what  keeps  your 
brother  night  owls  yonder — why  don't  they  start,  if 
ever  they're  going?  " 

Obedient  to  the  order,  given  in  soldier  terms  he 
could  not  use,  yet  sufficiently  understood,  an  Indian 
scout  —  an  Arapahoe  boy — whose  big  shock  head 
seemed  twice  the  size  of  his  lean  torso,  straightened 
up  from  his  catlike  crouch  and  came  swiftly  toward 
the  two  troopers. 


230  FORT    FRAYNE. 

"Big  Road  going — plenty  quick,"  he  muttered. 
"  Heap  whiskey  now— Bunco  fetch  'um!  " 

"Ah,  that's  what  kept  him,  was  it?  Run  back, 
Clancy,  and  tell  the  captain  he's  fired  up,  and  I'll 
creep  in  closer  and  see  if  he's  started."  So  saying 
the  old  trooper  doubled  up  over  his  huge,  moccasined 
feet  and,  carbine  in  hand,  crept  stealthily  onward 
toward  the  point  where  last  the  tepees  had  been  seen 
at  dusk,  Polly wog  excitedly  shuffling  by  his  side. 
For  fifty  yards  or  so  nothing  could  be  heard  or  seen 
in  front,  then  they  came  upon  a  dark  object  kneeling 
under  a  stunted  cottonwood,  close  to  the  bank  of  the 
frozen  stream.  It  was  one  of  the  Indian  troopers, 
and  at  Rorke's  muttered  summons  he  raised  his  hand 
as  though  to  caution  silence,  and  again  bent  his  head 
attentively, 

"Heap  whiskey!"  was  his  whispered  verdict. 
" Pretty  soon  fight.  Listen!" 

There  were  sounds  of  turmoil  in  the  Indian  ranks 
— harsh,  guttural  voices  and  much  shuffling  about. 
Every  now  and  then  the  thud  of  pony  hoofs  could 
be  heard,  as  the  nimble  little  beasts  went  scurrying 
over  the  snow;  then  muffled  shouts  across  the  stream 
in  impatient  hail  and  excited  answer.  One  party  of 
warriors  was  evidently  on  its  way,  and  its  rearward 
members  were  striving  to  induce  the  laggards  at  the 
village  to  come  in. 

"Bedad!"  said  Rorke;  "John  Barleycorn  has 
laid  some  of  thini  buck  blackguards  by  the  heels 
already,  and  they  can't  rouse  'em  up.  Go  you  in 
there,  Pollywog.  They  won't  see  you  this  night. 


FORT    FRAYXE.  231 

There  isn't  one  in  that  gang  could  tell  a  'Rappahoe 
from  a  raw  recruit  with  six  lingers  av  Bunco  Jim's 
jig  wather  in  him.  GVau  in,  boy.  Harass  the 
inemy  all  ye  can,  without  bringin'  on  a  general  en 
gagement — by  which  I  mane  any  kind  av  a  fight 
that's  too  big  for  a  corporal.  Did  ye  find  the  cap 
tain?"  he  asked,  turning  suddenly  to  Clancy,  who 
came  steadily  up  from  the  rear. 

"Whist!  he's  right  here,  an' Mr.  Ormsby  with 
him." 

Surely  enough,  crunching  through  the  snow, 
making  as  little  noise  as  they  could,  yet  stumbling 
painfully  at  times,  two  burly  forms  could  be  seen 
creeping  toward  them,  and  presently  Farwell  was 
near  enough  to  whisper  an  inquiry  as  to  how  far  the 
village  was  ahead. 

"Not  fifty  yards,  sorr,"  said  Rorke.  "  But  you 
needn't  fear  to  wake  'em.  There's  only  wan 
word  what's  left  of  Big  Road's  people  can  under 
stand  now  and  that's  whiskey  It's  my  belief  there's 
a  dozen  bucks  over  there  too  drunk  to  ride,  and 
they've  sent  all  the  travois  ahead  and  don't  know  how 
to  lug  'em  along.  They  haven't  all  the  plainscraft 
in  the  world,  sorr,  and  the  Twelfth  could  give  'em  a 
line  or  two  of  lesson  on  that  score." 

"Damn  the  luck!"  said  Farwell,  heartily.  "My 
orders  are  not  to  interfere  or  to  follow  until  they're 
all  across  the  Platte.  How  many  are  holding  back 
there,  corporal?  " 

"  Faith,  I  don't  know,  sorr,   but  ivery  man  that's 


232  FORT    FRAYNE. 

left  sees  double,  and  I've  told  Pollywog  to  count 
'em.  How  far  back  are  the  men,  sorr?  " 

"  They're  close  at  hand  now.  We  moved  forward 
after  getting  your  message.  Listen  to  those  beg 
gars!  " 

Through  the  still  night  a  wild,  mournful  howl 
was  uplifted  from  the  direction  of  the  village.  "A 
cross  betune  the  yelp  of  a  coyote  and  the  howl  of  a 
keener,"  said  Rorke.  "  Bedad,  they  may  talk  Sioux 
when  they're  sober,  but  Irish  is  the  universal 
language  when  they're  drunk.  Hark  til  'em  now." 
Another  howl  went  up.  Somebody  was  making  a 
speech,  and  presently,  as  the  orator  warmed  to  his 
subject,  the  sonorous  tones  rang  out  over  the  frozen 
valley  and  came  thundering  back  from  the  echoing 
bluffs. 

"That's  Big  Road  himself,"  muttered  Terry. 
"  lie's  too  crooked  to-night  to  see  his  own  way,  but 
he  can  steer  the  others  all  the  same.  What's  he  say 
ing,  Bismarck?  "  he  inquired  of  the  silent  Indian 
trooper. 

"lie  says  Big  Road's  village  reaches  from  the 
Medicine  Bow  to  the  tops  of  the  Big  Horn,  and 
there  are  not  enough  white  soldiers  or  cowboys  in  all 
the  land  to  take  him.  He  says  he's  going  to  ride 
with  his  six  sous  and  fight  Fort  Frayne  at  sunrise." 

"  Then  I'll  have  time  to  see  the  fun,"  said  Ormsby, 
with  a  laugh  that  had  no  mirth  in  it.  "  My  train 
goea  at  eight,  and  I  should  hate  to  miss  the  enter 
tainment.  I've  come  out  to  say  good-bye  to  you, 


FORT    FEAYNE.  233 

Terry,"  he  continued,  as  lie  held  forth  his  hand  to 
the  surprised  corporal, 

"Shure,  Misther  Ormsby  is  not  goin'  to  lave  us — 
now — with  all  the  new  trouble — and  Miss  Ellis 
down  sick?  " 

"I'm  of  no  use  to  them,  Rorke,  "said  Ormsby, 
sadly,as  Far-well  edged  on  to  the  front  as  though  to  give 
him  a  chance  to  talk  to  this  faithful  old  henchman  of  the 
Farrars.  "  Indeed  I'm  getting  superstitious.  I  bring 
them  nothing  but  ill  luck.  I've  never  corne  that  it 
wasn't  like  some  bird  of  ill  omen.  First  it  cost  them 
the  blessed  old  colonel's  life, and  now  that  scapegrace 
son  is  brought  back  into  their  world  just  long  enough 
to  reopen  all  the  old  wounds,  and  the  poor  mother  is 
bowed  with  new  shame  and  sorrow  and  with  new 
anxiety  since  Miss  Ellis  is  down.  The  doctors  say 
the  danger  is  past  and  she  will  soon  rally.  You  and 
Lieutenant  Will  are  all  they  need.  So — take  good  care 
of  them,  Terry,  and  of  yourself,  too,  and  don't  for 
get  we've  had  one  or  two  good  rides  together,  even 
though  I  can't  be  with  you  in  this — and — I've  left  a 
little  remembrance  for  you  with  '  Master  Will  ' — only 
don't  you  dare  call  him  that  again." 

"Sure,  no  man  in  the  Twelfth  will  ever  need  a 
rememberance  of  Mr.  Ormsby  that  saw  him  that  day 
we  jumped  Kill  Eagle  in  the  snowstorm,  but  whis 
per, "  he  murmured,  wistfully,  "who's  to  tell  Miss 
Ellis?  The  roses  will  be  slow  coming  back  to  the 
blessed  faceav  her — whin  she  finds  you're  gone." 

"I've  got  to  go,  Rorke,"  said  Ormsby,  briefly. 
"In  all  my  years  in  our  regiment,  I've  never  missed 


234  FORT    FRAYNE. 

an  inspection  or  a  review,  and  mighty  few  drills  have 
I  failed  to  be  there.  They'd  forgive  me  for  staying 
here  for  the  honor  of  the  Seventh,  and  a  sure  thing  of 
a  fight,  but  nothing  less,  and  the  colonel  says  there 
is  no  fight  here — only  another  surround  and  capture 
and  escort  home.  Why,  Big  Road's  drunk!" 

"Ay,  ay,  sorr,  and  if  the  colonel  was  Irish,  as 
was  him  that  preceded  him — by  brevet  annyhow, 
and  the  love  of  ivery  Irishman  in  the  Twelfth — he'd 
know  that  an  Indian's  never  so  full  of  fight  as  whin 
he's  full  of  whiskey.  There  isn't  room  in  Big  Road's 
skin  for  another  noggin',  sir.  His  people  will  drag 
him  after  the  village.  The  cowboys  will  jump  them 
up  the  range.  It'll  bring  on  a  general  row,  and  our 
carbines  will  be  crackling  along  Trooper  Creek  by 
noonday  to-morrow,  or  I'm  worse  than  a  Jew — I'm  a 
bureau  agent!  " 

"Ilow'd  you  get  out  here,  any  way?  You're 
in  Captain  Leale's  troop." 

"  True,  sorr,  but  the  colonel  put  me  on  jewty  wid 
the  few  Indians  that's  left  since  Crow  Knife  died, 
and  by  regimental  orders  I'm  timporariously  a  Sioux 
sergeant.  It's  an  Irishman  over  the  Indian.  That's 
poetic  justice,  sorr — the  green  above  the  red." 

"May  you  win  the  chevrons  this  night  in  your 
own  troop,  Terry,  and  I'll  send  you  the  handsomest 
pair  to  be  made  in  New  York.  Good-bye,  old  friend. 
Take  care  of  them — all.  I  must  ride  back  now." 

And  so  with  one  long  clasp  of  the  hand  the  two 
friends  and  fellow  campaigners,  oddly  mated,  yet 
closely  allied,  turned  slowly  away  from  one  another. 


FORT    FRAYXE.  235 

Rorke  to  take  up  once  again  his  post  of  duty,  Ormsby 
to  mount  and,  riding  in  silence  past  the  shivering 
groups  of  soldiers,  huddling  about  their  horses  and 
dancing  and  stamping  to  keep  from  freezing,  to  hie 
him  back  to  the  fort  and  for  a  parting  \vord  with 
Will. 

Far  up  on  the  snow-mantled  bluff  the  ruddy  night 
lights  were  burning  in  the  colonel's  quarters.  Far 
above  them,  the  brilliant  stars  were  twinkling  in  the 
sky.  Over  across  the  stream  the  bale  fires  burned 
like  wreckers'  luring  signals  on  the  shore  among  the 
dingy  clusters  of  wooden  shacks  where  Bunco  Jim 
had  undisputed  sway.  Away  out  northward  across 
the  frozen  steppe  there  sounded  once  in  a  while  some 
bacchanalian  whoop,  for  savages  red  and  savages 
dirty  white  were  riding  in  parallel  parties,  and  be 
ginning  now  to  shout  drunken  defiance  at  one  another 
over  the  intervening  mile.  Behind  him,  as  he  swiftly 
rode,  Ormsby  could  hear,  with  increasing  frequency, 
the  whoops  and  yells  of  Big  Road's  stragglers,  still 
anchored  south  of  the  Platte,  but  evidently  getting 
slowly  under  way.  Then  straight  ahead,  up  along 
the  plateau,  in  ringing,  fearless  tone,  the  sentries  be 
gan  their  midnight  call,  and  all  the  valley  re-echoed 
to  the  stirring  assurance  that,  so  far  as  Frayne  and 
its  sleeping  populace  was  concerned,  it  was  twelve 
o'clock  and  all  well. 

And  then  somewhere  across  the  stream  among  that 
cluster  of  ramshackle  hovels  there  flared  a  sudden 
light,  a  single,  instantaneous  flash,  followed  in  a  few 
seconds  by  a  loud  bang  that  revived  the  echoes  of  the 


236  FORT    FRAYXE. 

watch-cry,  just  as  the  last,  in  faint  aerial  ripple, 
seemed  dying  miles  away,  and  then  Jack  Ormsby 
struck  spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped  to  the  post. 
Even  though  no  answers  came  from  the  sentries  on 
the  bluff,  he  knew  that  shot  was  no  empty,  meaning 
less,  reckless  deed.  It  was  a  signal  to  some  distant 
watcher  and  was  answered,  just  as  Ormsby  expected, 
by  a  faint,  far-away  crack  of  rifle,  miles  perhaps  to  the 
silent  north. 

A  corporal  came  running  to  meet  and  identify  him 
when  he  was  halted  by  the  westward  sentry  on 
Number  Three. 

"Have  they  started,  sir?"  asked  he. 

"Yes;  all  but  a  few  are  gone.  What  are  the  lights 
about?  Anything  astir  at  the  post?  " 

"  '  K  '  Troop  ordered  right  out,  sir.  The  wires  quit 
working  twenty  minutes  ago,  and  they're  cut  along 
the  railway  to  the  east." 

Throwing  himself  from  his  horse  when  he  reached 
the  colonel's  quarters,  Ormsby  hastened  in  and  found 
that  energetic  warrior  saying  things  that  impelled 
Aunt  Lou  to  stop  her  ears  and  lift  up  a  plaintive 
voice  in  vain  protest.  The  adjutant  was  there,  a 
sympathetic  listener,  however,  and  the  orderly  had 
gone  for  the  officer  of  the  day—  the  official  who,  next 
to  the  adjutant,  was  ahvays  sure  to  be  summoned 
when  anything  of  unusually  exasperating  character 
had  happened. 

"Did  you  ever  know  anything  more  contempt 
uously  impudent  in  your  life,  Jack?"  said  his  uncle. 
"They've  let  me  wear  these  wires  hot  sending  all 


FORT    FRAYXE.  237 

manner  of  prayers  to  be  allowed  to  do  something, 
and,  just  so  long  as  the  replies  w^'-e  orders  not  to  in 
terfere,  our  friends  and  fellow-citizens  have  let  them 
through.  Xow,  the  moment  the  tide  begins  to  turn 
and  the  agent  or  the  general,  or  somebody  else,  has 
a  lucid  interval,  and  things  begin  coming  our  way, 
they  find  it  out  and  clip  the  wires.  How  could  they 
find  it  out?  Why,  they  have  more  friends  at  court 
than  we  ever  could  hope  to  have.  I'll  bet  six  months' 
pay  the  order  for  us  to  move  is  sizzling  in  the  snow 
somewhere  east  of  Canon  Springs.  I've  sent  half 
a  dozen  of  the  best  light  riders  in  '  K '  Troop  east 
to  find  the  break,  but  it  will  be  broad  daylight  before 
a  word  can  reach  us,  and  by  that  time  that  whole 
outfit  will  be  at  Trooper  Creek.  Were  there  any  left 
when  you  came  away?  " 

"Just  a  few,  sir.  They've  been  supplied  with 
whiskey  from  Bunco  Jim's,  I  fancy,  and  some  of 
them  seem  very  drunk.  Farwell  thinks  the  village 
is  strung  out  over  as  much  as  a  dozen  miles.  You 
heard  that  shot  a  few  minutes  ago,  did  you?" 

"The  sentry  did,  and  reported  it — Xumber  Five — 
and  he  said  there  were  others  far  to  the  north.  I'm  told 
that  there  isn't  a  man  left  in  that  hell-hole  across  the 
creek-  all  gone  to  take  part  in  some  prearranged 
scrap  with  Big  Road's  people,  and  here  we  are, 
powerless  to  do  a  thing." 

"Well,  said  Ormsby,  after  a  minute's  reflection, 
"on  general  principles,  don't  you  think  it  rather  a 
good  thing  to  let  them  scrap?  It  will  only  result  in 
a  number  of  very  objectionable  characters,  red  and 


238  FORT    FKAYNE. 

white  both,  being  cleaned  out,  and  for  once  the 
Twelfth  will  have  no  losses  to  mourn.  I'd  let  'em 
fight,  and  say,  bless  you,  my  children,  if  I  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  it." 

"Oh,  so  would  I,  if  I  weren't  a  'regular',  and 
therefore  blamed,  no  matter  which  way  the  thing 
goes.  If  the  Indians  get  the  worst  of  it,  the  Interior 
Department,  the  peace  societies,  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.'s, 
and  God  knows  how  many  other  pious  people  all 
over  America,  will  be  howling  'Abolish  the  army' 
for  looking  on  and  allowing  this  wholesale  slaughter 
of  innocent  and  helpless  wards  of  the  Nation,  and 
if  the  wards  come  out  atop  and  clean  out  the  cow 
boys,  the  press  of  the  country  will  ring  with  accounts 
of  how  the  gallant  frontiersmen  sent  courier  after 
courier  to  the  fort,  praying  for  aid,  and  the  cowardly 
commander  and  his  dude  cavalry  were  most  of  them 
helplessly  drunk,  and  couldn't  do  or  wouldn't  do  a 
thing.  I  agree  with  old  Kenyou  down  at  Fort  Rus 
sell,  by  Jupiter!  We'd  have  Inspectors  and  courts 
of  inquiry  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  by  the 
time  the  lies  had  saturated  the  whole  country  and 
the  truth  was  beginning  to  come  out,  the  papers 
would  say  it  was  no  longer  a  matter  of  sufficient  in 
terest  to  publish.  No,  Jack;  you  thank  God  you're 
in  the  Seventh,  even  when  you're  being  brickbatted. 
I'm  going  to  launch  out  after  that  gang,  orders  or  no 
orders.  So  that's  the  end  of  it.  Ride  after  Farwell," 
said  he  to  his  silent  staff-officer,  "and  tell  him  to 
follow  close  on  the  heels  of  Big  Road,  and  I'll  back 
him  with  all  we've  got.  Tell  him  if  he  hears  firing 


PORT    FRAYNE.  239 

ahead  to  stop  it,  if  he  can,  but  if  he  can't,  then,  by 
thunder,  to  help  the  Indians — they're  the  injured 
ones  in  this  deal!"  And  with  those  memorable  in 
structions  on  his  lips,  Fenton  strode  forth  upon  the 
porch  of  his  quarters,  out  into  the  still  and  starlit 
night,  now  faintly  illumined  by  the  rays  of  the  wan 
ing  moon,  and  in  another  moment  the  trumpets  were 
blaring  "  To  horse,"  and  all  Fort  Frayne  sprang  to 
life. 

It  was  but  a  little  after  midnight,  and  many  of  the 
men  were  still  awake.  Others,  lying  down  on  their 
bunks  without  removing  boots  or  blouses,  had  fallen 
into  an  uneasy  doze.  It  seemed  but  a  minute  before, 
full  panoplied,  they  were  streaming  down  to  the 
stables,  where  the  horses  Avere  already  pawing  and 
snorting  excitedly  as  though  the  sound  of  this  mid 
night  alarm  had  conveyed  its  full  meaning  to  them, 
At  any  other  time  Jack  Ormsby  would  have  found 
keen  delight  in  watching  the  prompt,  soldierly  style 
in  which  the  troopers  sprang  to  their  work,  and  the 
swift,  deft  saddling  and  rapid  formation  of  troop 
after  troop,  but  to-night  his  heart  was  leaden.  Not 
for  him  the  rush  and  vigor  and  exhilaration  of  the 
sudden  start  and  sharp  pursuit.  While  they,  the 
men  among  whom  he  was  proud  to  be  hailed  as  friend 
and  comrade,  were  speeding  on  their  ride  to  the  res 
cue,  he,  summoned  by  a  duty  as  imperative  and  held 
as  obligation  every  bit  as  sacred,  would  have  to  turn 
his  back  on  the  bounding  column,  on  Fort  Frayne, 
with  all  that  was  dearest,  fondest,  fairest  in  life, 
and  hasten  eastward  by  the  morning  train,  or  be 


240  FORT   FBAYNE. 

held  as  having  broken  the  spotless  record  of  his 
company. 

Even  as  the  men  were  leading  into  line  and  the 
stern  voices  of  the  troop  sergeants  could  be  heard 
calling  the  roll,  and  lights  began  to  gleam  in  the 
lower  windows  of  the  officers'  quarters  and  pallid 
women  appeared  at  the  doorways,  clinging  to  the 
very  last  to  husband  or  father  hastening  to  his  duty, 
poor  Jack  stood  in  front  of  the  little  gateway  of  the 
Farrars',  gazing  aloft  at  the  window  of  Ellis's  room, 
where  the  dim  night  light  told  of  the  sad  and  anxious 
watch  maintained,  and  with  all  his  soul  he  longed  to 
follow  the  buoyant,  bounding  footsteps  of  the  gallant 
boy  who  had  just  come  rushing  by  from  the  adjoin 
ing  quarters,  admitted  at  the  hallway  for  the  mother's 
parting  kiss  and  blessing,  and  long,  long  clinging 
embrace.  With  all  his  heart  bound  up  in  that  little 
household,  Jack  stood  there  at  the  threshold,  unbid 
den,  yet  longing  to  enter.  Not  once  had  he  set  eyes 
on  the  face  of  the  girl  he  loved  since  the  night  of  his 
startling  announcement.  Only  once  had  he  caught 
sight  of  the  mother's  pallid,  patient  features  at  the 
window.  Had  he  no  rights,  no  welcome  there — he, 
who  would  serve  them  with  his  heart's  blood,  if  that 
could  save  them  from  ill  or  suffering?  Booted  men 
in  rough  campaign  dress  brushed  him  by  with  un 
heard,  unanswered  words  of  soldier  greeting,  and  the 
surgeon,  hurrying  past,  stopped  to  say:  "Leale  begs 
you  will  come  to  him  a  moment,  and  I  can't  forbid  it 
now." 

Ormsby  bowed  assent,  yet  hardly  knew  to  what. 
He  was  waiting  only  for  Will,  and  presently  the  boy 


FORT    FRAYXE.  241 

came  springing  forth  and,  as  Ormsby  stepped  eagerly 
forward  with  inquiry  for  Ellis  and  her  mother,  the 
words  died  on  his  lips,  for,  dashing  his  hand  across 
his  eyes,  \Vill  sped  swiftly  by,  with  only  this  for 
greeting:  "Hello,  Jack!  Don't  stop  me  now,  for 
God's  sake.  I've  just  time  to  see  Kitty,"  and  more 
than  half  the  words  came  back  over  his  shoulder. 

It  was  Helen  Daunton  who,  peering  forth  from  the 
doorway,  saw  him  standing  there  and  mercifully 
bade  him  enter — Mrs.  Farrar  would  be  only  too 
glad  to  see  him — and  gratefully  Jack  obeyed.  The 
squadron  was  forming  on  the  parade  as  Ormsby 
entered  the  little  army  cottage  and  was  ushered  into 
the  parlor.  There  at  the  window,  with  tears  still 
streaming  down  her  gentle  face,  stood  Mrs.  Farrar, 
gazing  out  over  the  dim  expanse  at  the  dark  ranks 
on  the  opposite  side,  and  longing  for  one  more  peep 
at  her  boy,  whose  horse  had  been  led  away  up  to  the 
colonel's  quarters.  She  partly  turned  as  Jack  tip 
toed  in,  and  a  wan,  sad  smile  flickered  one  moment 
about  her  lips. 

"You,  too,  are  going,"  she  said,  "and  I  know 
how  busy  you  are,  but  I  could  not  let  you  go  until  I 
had  told  you — as  I  told  Willy  to  tell  you,  if  I  did 
not  see  you  again  before  the  start — that  from  Helen 
I  have  learned  how  true,  how  noble  a  friend  and 
helper  you  have  been  to  her  and  how  you  strove  to 
shield  my  poor,  poor  boy.  God  bless  you,  Jack — I 
shall  always  call  you  that  now,  for  you  seem  likemy 
own  to  me.  God  bless  you  for  all  you've  done  and 
tried  to  do  for  me  and  mine."  She  had  clasped  both 


242  FORT    KRAYNE. 

Vis  hands  now,  and  the  tears  were  raining  down  her 
face. 

Before  he  could  answer,  a  little  knot  of  horsemen 
rode  past  the  gate.  One  of  them  reined  aside  and 
waved  his  hand  toward  the  window  where  the  mother 
stood.  Again  she  turned  thither  with  love  and 
dread,  with  pride  and  sorrow  and  yearning  in  her 
gaze.  Then  a  trumpet  sounded,  aud  the  tall  young- 
soldier  spurred  suddenly  away. 

"Forgive  me,  Jack,  I  know  you  have  to  go. 
Don't  let  me  keep  you  now,"  she  sobbed,  and  Helen 
came  and  twined  her  arms  about  her,  and  Ormsby 
bent  and  kissed  the  fragile  hand  and  went  noiselessly 
out  into  the  night.  Twenty  minutes  later,  when 
once  again  he  gazed  upward  at  the  little  dormer  win 
dow  of  the  room  where  Ellis  slept  her  fevered  sleep, 
the  squadron  had  gone,  the  parade  was  deserted. 
There  were  bright  beams  from  the  windows  of  the 
colonel's  quarters,  but  all  was  darkness  in  his  heart 
and  here  in  the  little  army  home  where  were  left 
only  women  now,  bearing  the  name  and  the  sorrows 
of  the  Farrars. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"A  HAPPY  New  Year  to  you,"  said  the  conductor 
of  the  "Limited,"  as  Jack  Ormsby  was  whisked 
away  eastward  from  Chicago,  after  sixty  hours  of 
incessant  railway  riding  from  Fort  Frayne.  Happy 
New  Year,  indeed!  It  sounded  like  mockery. 

Turning  away  with  a  sigh  from  the  gateway  of 
Will's  quarters,  he  had  gone  at  last  to  Leale's,  and 
bitterly  did  he  reproach  himself  that  so  little  thought 
had  he  given  to  the  appeal  of  that  stanch  and  loyal 
friend.  The  attendant  ushered  him  in  to  where, 
with  bandaged,  sightless  eyes  and  painful  breathing, 
the  stalwart  soldier  lay,  heroic  in  his  endurance. 
Their  interview  was  brief,  for  Leale  was  forbidden 
to  talk  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary,  and  only 
in  a  hoarse  whisper  could  he  talk  at  all.  Bending 
over  his  bedside,  Jack  had  taken  the  captain's  hand 
in  his  and  told  him  that  the  troops  were  gone  on 
their  stern  chase  in  default  of  orders  to  the  contrarv, 
and  that  Fenton  hoped  to  overtake  the  Indians  and 
interpose  again  between  them  and  the  cowboys  before 
the  latter  could  gather  in  overwhelming  strength, 
and  then  he  briefly  gave  the  reasons  which  compelled 
him  to  take  the  morning  train  for  the  East.  Even 
under  the  bandages  Ormsby  thought  he  saw  an 
instant  shadow  of  disappointment. 

"What  is  it,  Leale,  old  chap?"   he  asked.     "Had 

243 


244  tfOUT    FBAYNE. 

you  any  plan? — anything  in  which  1  could  serve 
you?  " 

"  I  must  go — too — but  they  will  not  let  me  move 
— yet,"  was  the  whispered  reply. 

"Man  and  boy,"  cried  poor  Jack,  "I've  been  in 
the  Seventh  ever  since  I  was  old  enough  to  enlist, 
and  never  until  this  night  have  I  known  what  it  was 
to  wish  I  were  free  to  stay  away,  but  dear  old  fellow, 
I  thought  it  was  costing  me  more  than  I  could  bear  be 
fore  seeing  you,  and  now — Leale,"  he  broke  off  im 
pulsively,  "I'm  turning  my  back  on  everything  I 
hold  dear  in  this  world  to-night — my  sister,  my 
heart's  love,  my  trustiest  friend  when  most  he  needs 
me — everything  but  one,  and  that  is  the  old  regiment 
in  New  York.  You're  a  soldier,  Leale,  if  there  ever 
lived  one.  You  know  our  record  and  our  traditions. 
So  long  as  I  hold  my  warrant  in  the  Seventh,  is  it 
not  my  bounden  duty  to  goto  them  and  go  at  once?" 

A  clasp  of  the  hand  with  a  movement  of  the  lips 
was  the  only  answer  for  a  moment,  and  then  "You're 
right,  Jack — go!  I'm  coming — soon." 

"Then  I'll  come  half  way  to  meet  you,  Leale.  I'll 
join  you  in  Chicago.  If  there  be  time  I'll  come  'way 
back  here, and,  unless  your  doctors  say  you  must  go  into 
hospital,  my  house  is  to  be  your  home,  and  the 
specialists  can  see  you  there.  I  have  said  good-bye 
to  Mrs.  Farrar — to  Will's  mother,  and  to — Helen. 
They  think  I  went  with  the  command.  Will  you 
promise?  Will  you  come  to  my  roof,  Leale,  and  let 
us  nurse  you  there  to  sight  and  strength  again?" 


FORT    FRAYNE.  245 

But  Leale  slowly  shook  his  head.  "I  must  go 
home,  Jack,  a  little  while,  and  then — to  Europe." 

And  so  the  friends  had  parted — each  aware  of  the 
other's  plight,  yet  neither  able  to  help.  Not  until 
long  after  the  train  had  gone  whistling  away  did 
the  Farrars  know  that  it  was  back  to  Gotham 
Onnsby  had  been  called,  and  then  it  was  through  Kitty. 
She  came  hurrying  in  to  say  that  with  their  glasses 
they  could  plainly  see  some  of  the  command  riding 
homeward  from  the  direction  of  Trooper  Creek.  And 
meantime  the  line  repairers  who  had  gone  along  the 
track  from  Canon  Springs  had  found  the  breaks — a 
dozen  of  them— and  restrung  their  light  copper  wire, 
and,  now  that  they  were  no  longer  of  consequence, 
orders,  injunctions  and  suggestions  by  the  dozen 
were  coming  in.  Wayne,  left  at  the  post  in  tempo 
rary  command,  opened,  read,  re-read  and  pooh-poohed 
the  first  that  came — these  being  from  the  agency— 
but  began  to  wake  up  in  earnest  as  he  opened  the 
sixth  or  seventh  of  the  brown  envelopes.  Then  sud 
denly  he  hastened  over  to  the  colonel's  house,  leaving 
the  clerks  at  the  office  to  their  devices,  and  with  his 
field-glass  and  an  attendant  officer  and  orderly,  began 
studying  the  northward  stretch  of  snowy  prairie 
while  Lucretia  wistfully  watched  him  from  the  gal 
lery.  When  a  messenger  came  running  up  with,  and 
Wayne  opened,  the  next  dispatch,  she  could  not  longer 
restrain  her  curiosity,  and  so  came  boldly  forth  to 
demand  explanation. 

Over  across  the  Platte,  among  the  shanties  that 
surrounded  Bunco  Jim's  establishment,  there  were 


246  FORT    FRAYNE. 

signs  of  excitement  and  lively  emotion.  The  sentries 
reported  that  ever  since  daylight,  in  squads  of  twos 
or  threes,  cowboys  and  ranchmen  had  been  riding  to 
and  fro,  and  now  there  was  much  carousing  about 
the  bars,  and  no  little  scurrying  hither  and  thither  of 
slatternly  women.  Two  teams  had  been  hitched  and 
driven  away  northward,  and  the  few  soldiers  who 
swarmed  out  along  the  sentry  post — forbidden  to  go 
beyond  or  to  hold  communication  with  the  gang 
across  the  river — surmised  that  they  were  needed  to 
bring  in  wounded,  and  that  therefore  there  must  have 
been  a  scrimmage.  Old  Jimmy  Brewer,  a  frontier 
character  to  whom  no  few  liberties  were  allowed  be 
cause  of  his  long-tried  loyalty  to  garrison  after  garri 
son  at  Frayne,  had  been  relied  upon  to  come  in  as 
usual  with  his  load  of  dairy  goods  and  gossip,  had 
failed,  however,  to  materialize  this  morning,  of  all 
others,  and  Frayne  was  short  of  cream  and  news  of 
the  neighborhood  just  at  the  time  when  both  would 
have  been  comforting. 

But  Wayne,  as  has  been  said,  was  a  man  who,  once 
aroused  from  the  dreamy  abstraction  of  his  daily  life 
and  thrown  upon  his  mettle  as  commanding  officer, 
had  been  known  to  display  surprising  energy,  and 
here  wras  a  case  in  point. 

"I  wish  you,"  said  he  to  the  post  quarter-master, 
who  was  in  attendance  upon  him  at  the  moment,  "to 
take  a  couple  of  men  and  find  out  what  you  can  in 
the  settlement  yonder  of  what  has  been  going  on  this 
morning.  Then  I  need  a  first-rate  rider  to  go  at  the 
gallop  to  Trooper  Creek."  Then  he  turned  and 


FORT    FRAYNE.  247 

bowed  to  the  appealing  face  peering  out  at  him  from 
under  its  hood  of  fur  so  close  at  his  side.  "  Let  me 
put  an  end  to  your  anxiety,  Miss  Fenton,"  said  he, 
reassuringly.  "Your  brother,  the  colonel,  will  be 
on  his  homeward  way  just  as  soon  as  he  gets  those 
dispatches.  So  you  and  Miss  Ormsby  can  breakfast 
in  peace  and  comfort." 

But  Wayne,  for  once  in  his  life,  revealed  no  more 
than  Avas  his  actual  intention.  Pouring  forth  her 
voluble  song  of  thanksgiving,  Lucretia  talked  a 
steady  flow  until  once  more  he  raised  his  cap  to  her 
at  her  door,  and  then,  turning  suddenly  away, 
hastened  to  the  oince  before  she  could  recover  from 
her  astonishment  at  this  unusually  precipitate  move. 
She  had  deprived  herself  of  all  opportunity  of  asking 
for  particulars  or  for  learning  what  Wayne  himself 
was  now  to  do.  Hearing  from  his  lips  that  her 
brother  would  soon  be  on  his  homeward  way,  she 
placed  no  other  interpretation  upon  the  news  than 
that  the  regiment  Avould  be  coming  with  him,  that 
the  Avar  Avas  over,  and  their  troubles  at  an  end. 

But  could  she  have  seen  Wayne's  face  as  he 
hastened  to  his  quarters,  bade  his  orderly  pack  his 
field  kit  at  once,  and  then  get  the  horses,  she  would 
have  known  that  a  serious  matter  was  in  hand.  From 
his  OAvn  door  the  major  hurried  back  to  the  office 
again,  wrote  three  telegraphic  messages,  and  sum 
moned  the  orderly  trumpeter. 

"Give  my  compliments  to  the  post  surgeon,  and 
ask  if  he  will  meet  me  at  my  quarters  at  once,"  he 
said.  Then,  directing  the  clerk  to  have  the  messages 


248  FORT    FRAYNE. 

rushed,  he  hastened  across  the  parade,  and,  ringing 
at  the  Farrars'  door,  begged  to  see  Mrs.  Daunton  a 
moment.  As  luck  would  have  it,  Dr.  Gibson  him 
self  was  in  low-toned  consultation  with  Helen  in  the 
parlor,  and  he  looked  up  with  marked  interest  as 
Wayne  was  ushered  in. 

The  major  read  the  inquiry  in  the  doctor's  eyes. 
He  greeted  Mrs.  Daunton  with  brief  courtesy,  and 
then  spoke.  "Yes.  He's  ordered  in — relieved — 
and  I'm  ordered  out.  It's  only  another  instance  of 
the  old  story.  I  go  in  ten  minutes,  and  have  no 
idea  at  this  moment  what  has  been  going  on  at  the 

~  O 

front — no  more  idea  than  Fenton  has  of  what  has 
been  going  on  at  the  rear.  If  there's  been  a  fight, 
cowboy  and  Indian,  as  is  probable,  and  the  band  has 
slipped  away  to  the  mountains,  then  we  will  have  to 
follow,  and  probably  take  up  a  fight  we  had  nothing 
to  do  with  at  first  and  did  our  best  to  prevent.  I 
came,  Mrs.  Daunton,"  said  he,  gravely,  "to  ask  for 
Mrs.  Fari-arand  Miss  Ellis,  as  Will  will  be  anxious  to 
know,  and  I  fear  it  will  be  some  time  before  he  can 
hope  to  see  them  again." 

"  That  is  what  his  mother  feared,  major,  and  it  is 
that  we  have  to  contend  with  now.  Miss  Farrar  is 
somewhat  better,  as  the  doctor  will  tell  you,  but,  of 
of  course,  she  is  very  weak,  and  knows  nothing  of 
the  excitements  of  last  night.  But  what  am  I  to 
tell  Mrs.  Farrar? "  she  continued,  with  brimming 
eyes.  "  The  servants  have  been  saying  in  the 
kitchen  that  there  has  been  a  battle,  but  the  corporal 
of  the  guard  declared  to  us  that  the  regiment  could 


FORT    FRAYNE.  249 

be  seen  coming  home,  and  I  have  comforted  her  with 
that,  and  now — 

"And  now  I  fear  I'll  have  to  say  it  is  only  some 
little  detachment  convoying  prisoners,"  answered 
Wayne,  "  but  the  command  itself  will  have  to  push 
on  in  pursuit.  Tell  her,  though,  there  is  no  likeli 
hood  of  our  having  any  serious  fighting,  and  that 
I'll  watch  over  Will  and  care  for  him  as  though  he 
were  my  own  boy." 

"  I  wish  she  could  hear  you,"  pleaded  Helen, 
"  but  I  made  her  go  back  to  her  bed  a  while  ago, 
and  you  must  start — " 

"  I  must  go  at  once, "  he  answered,  gravely.  "  Is 
there  anything  I  can  take  for  you  or  for  her?  " 

"She  is  sleeping,  I  hope,"  said  Helen,  in  reply, 
"  for  all  night  long  she  has  hardly  closed  her  eyes, 
but  there  will  be  other  messengers,  probably,  during 
the  day,  will  there  not?  " 

"Yes,  several,  doubtless,  especially  after  the  de 
tachment  gets  in." 

"Well,  then,  I  have  one — packet;  I  hardly  like 
to  burden  you  with  it,  major,  yet  ought  not,  per 
haps,  intrust  it  to  any  one  else.  It  can  be  ready  in 
five  minutes. " 

"  Then  I  will  call  for  it,"  he  answered  promptly, 
and,  taking  the  doctor  with  him,  retraced  his  steps 
to  his  own  door. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  a  motley  little  procession  be 
gan  straggling  across  the  Platte  and  heading  for  the 
post — a  small  party  of  troopers  escorting  a  bevy  of 
Indians,  some  prostrate  on  travois,  some  astride  of 


250  FORT  FKAYXE, 

scraggly  ponies,  some  shuffling  along  afoot,  some 
few  big-eyed,  solemn  little  papooses  on  their  mothers' 
backs,  and  with  them  came  the  first  tidings  of  the 
events  of  the  night  gone  by. 

Long  before  Big  Road's  party  had  begun  to  reach 
the  appointed  rendezvous  on  Trooper  Creek,  there 
had  been  hostile  demonstrations  from  white  men 
out  on  the  bluffs  to  the  front  and  on  their  right 
flank; — that  is  to  the  noi'th  and  east.  There  had 
been  firing  during  the  night.  Now  came  serious 
action  with  the  break  of  day.  These  men  wore 
fur  caps  and  gloves,  soldiers'  winter  overcoats  just 
like  the  regulars— and  why  shouldn't  they,  since 
Bunco  Jim  and  his  associates  had  long  driven  a 
thriving  trade  buying  up  such  items  of  winter  wear 
of  deserters  or  drunkards  from  the  post?  They 
formed  along  the  hillsides  afar  off,  keeping  up  the 
semblance  of  cavalry  skirmish  order,  and  evidently 
striving  to  harass  or  delay  the  movement  of  the 
Indians  as  much  as  possible,  and  yet  to  keep  well 
out  of  harm's  way.  There  was  also  evident  desire 
to  convince  the  fleeing  village  that  its  assailants 
were  cavalrymen  from  Fort  Frayne,  but  even  before 
the  few  young  braves,  riding  valiantly  out  to  inter 
pose  between  their  women  and  children  and  old  folks 
and  these,  their  aggressors,  sent  in  word  that  no  sol 
diers  were  among  the  enemy — that  it  was  all  a  cow 
boy  crowd — the  older  men  who  remained  had  dis 
covered  the  fact,  and  dispatched  runners  to  Big 
Road  with  the  news.  That  redoubtable  chief  was 
still  drunk,  but  the  sound  of  firing  had  vanquished 


FORT    FKAYNE.  251 

the  stupefying  effect  of  his  potations,  and,  though 
two  or  three  of  his  chosen  followers  were  helplessly 
gone,  he  appeared  with  the  first  peep  of  day,  ag 
gressively  hostile  and  eager  to  fight  anything  or  any 
body.  Galloping  forward,  reeling  in  saddle,  but 
hanging  on  as  only  an  Indian  can,  he  had  marshaled 
and  led  his  people,  and  the  next  thing  the  cowboys 
knew  old  Big  Road  had  turned  on  them  like  a  baited 
bull.  Within  half  an  hour  after  dawn  the  bluffs 
along  Trooper  Creek  were  ringing  to  the  music  of 
warwhoop  and  battle-cry,  and  the  wintry  air  was 
throbbing  to  the  swift  rattle  of  musketry.  With 
half  a  dozen  of  his  prominent  fellow-citizens 
stretched  on  the  snow  dead  or  crippled,  Bunco  Jim 
thanked  God  when  some  one  shouted  that  the  cavalry 
were  riding  into  line  not  two  miles  away.  Gather 
ing  up  the  stragglers  of  the  village,  old  Fenton  had 
pushed  his  skirmish  line  straight  out  across  the 
frozen  creek,  and,  while  Big  Road  and  most  of  his 
warriors  went  whirling  up  the  opposite  slope,  back 
ing  away  for  the  Big  Horn  with  most  of  the  village 
beyond  them,  and  firing  from  a  distance  at  the  swift 
but  regulated  advance  of  the  Twelfth,  Fenton  had 
swung  his  right  wing  in  wide-spreading  sweep  across 
the  snow-covered  prairie,  brushing  aside,  turning 
back,  and  in  some  few  instances  riding  over  the 
cowboys  who  wouldn't  get  out  of  the  way. 

"You  tricked  those  poor  devils  into  making  a 
break,"  he  furiously  replied  to  the  first  plainsman 
who  claimed  to  be  fighting  to  help  the  soldier. 
"You  lied  them  into  leaving,  and  then  attacked 


252  FOKT    FBAYNE. 

them  on  the  run.  Get  out  of  the  way,  every  damned 
one  of  you,  or,  by  Heaven,  there'll  be  war  that'll 
make  your  head  swim.  " 

But,  do  his  best,  he  was  too  late  for  the  real  object 
of  his  coming.  Bunco  Jim's  strategy  had  prevailed. 
The  Indians  Avere  in  full  flight  for  the  mountains, 
and  the  onus  of  the  whole  business  was  satisfactorily 
transferred  to  the  shoulders  of  the  troops.  Two  of 
Jim's  numerous  allies  had  been  knocked  on  the  head, 
but  as  he  sagely  reflected,  they  were  fellows  from  the 
Powder  River  country  \vho  didn't  owe  him  a  cent. 
Certain  others  were  more  or  less  severely  wounded, 
and  would  have  to  be  cared  for  at  JimtOAvn,  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  they  had  gathered  in  a  number  of 
Indian  ponies,  had  shot  a  warrior  or  two  and  could 
easily  swear  they'd  killed  a  dozen;  but,  best  of  all, 
they  had  embroiled  Big  Road  with  Uncle  Sam,  and 
brought  on  a  war  that  might  involve  all  Big  Road's 
friends,  Sioux  or  Cheyenne,  call  to  the  scene  thou 
sands  of  soldiers,  and  "bull  the  market"  for  beef 
cattle,  provisions,  and  forage,  on  all  of  which  Jim 
held  a  corner. 

And  so,  when  noonday  came,  his  wounded  were 
safely  in  hospital,  within  the  log  walls  of  his  prairie 
towTn,  and  the  Indians  were  far  away  northward 
toward  Cloud  Peak,  the  Twelfth  following  in  steady 
pursuit,  receiving  shots  from  time  to  time  from  the 
daring  rear  guard  of  the  redskins,  who  refused  all 
efforts  to  bring  them  to  a  halt  and  parley.  A  dozen 
Indians,  young  and  old,  were  once  more  huddled 
about  the  smoking  fires  on  the  flats  above  the  post,  and 


FORT    FRAYXE.  253 

a  few  troopers  were  swearing  and  shivering  on  guard 
about  them,  while  up  along  the  plateau,  from  door 
to  door  flitted  the  wives  and  children  of  the  officers 
thus  summarily  hustled  away  into  savage  campaign, 
and  all  thought  of  holiday  rejoicing  was  at  an  end. 

It  was  just  eight  o'clock  when  the  major  rode  away, 
attended  by  a  single  orderly,  leaving  the  post  to  the 
care  of  the  few  soldiers  who  remained.  He  had  dis 
mounted  at  the  colonel's,  ostensibly  to  ask  if  they 
had  any  messages  to  send  before  reflecting  that,  un 
less  something  utterly  unforeseen  should  occur,  the 
colonel  himself  would  be  there  to  hear  the  messages 
in  person  before  the  setting  of  the  sun.  The  con 
sciousness  of  this  fact  dawned  upon  him  as  Lucretia 
met  him  at  the  door  and  covered  him  with  an  embar 
rassment  and  confusion  which  made  nothing  short  of 
ludicrous  his  farewell  to  the  lady  of  his  love.  Kitty 
had  gone  to  the  Farrars,  as  has  been  said,  to  mingle 
her  tears  with  those  of  Will's  unhappy  mother,  and 
if  there  ever  was  a  time  when  the  coast  was  abso 
lutely  clear  and  all  conditions  favorable  for  a  fond  if 
brief  avowal,  it  was  this — it  was  now;  yet  such  was 
Wayne's  consternation  at  finding  he  had  bethought 
him  of  no  other  excuse  than  his  own  longing  for 
coming  at  all,  and  such  was  his  unconsciousness  of 
the  fact  that  she  would  prefer  that  to  any  excuse  he 
could  possibly  devise,  the  bedeviled  major  stared 
blankly  at  her  as  she  opened  the  door,  and — to  this 
day  they  tell  it  in  the  Twelfth  with  renewed  guffaws 
of  rejoicing — the  only  words  that  rose  to  his  lips 
were  these: 

"Er,  ah — does — does  Colonel  Fenton  live  here?' 


254  FORT  FBAYNE. 

And  Lucretia,  bursting  into  tears,  believed  her 
beloved  had  gone  stark,  staring  mad. 

"  He  up  and  grabbed  her  by  the  arm,"  said  Trum 
peter  Billy  Madden  at  the  bivouac  fires  that  night, 
"and  kind  of  shoved  himself  inside  the  door  with 
her,  and  she  a-cryin',  and  the  next  I  see  of  him  he 
come  a-lungin'  out,  and,  you  hear  me,  her  shawl  was 
a-hangiu'  over  his  shoulders  and  never  dropped  off 
till  he  got  to  the  gate.  What'd  that  mean?  Well, 
if  you'd  a  seen  the  old  man's  face  you  wouldn't  ask. 
I'd  a  mind  to  strike  him  for  ten  right  then  and  there, 
but  Mrs.  Daunton  she  come  a-runnin'  with  a  big  enve 
lope  just  as  we  was  startin' and  says,  'Give  that  to 
Mr.  Ormsby,  please,  and  he  swiped  it  into  his  saddle 
bags,  and  says,  'You  bet, 'or  something  like  it,  when 
he  knowed  and  I  knowed  Mr.  Ormsby  was  a-scooting 
for  Cheyenne  fast  as  train  could  tike  him." 

Indeed,  it  was  not  until  after  Wayne  was  a  mile 
away  across  the  Platte,  riding  with  a  light  and 
bounding  heart  on  a  sad  and  vexatious  errand,  that 
Helen  Daunton  learned  for  the  first  time  from  Kitty's 
lips  that  poor  Jack  had  had  to  hurry  home,  that  he 
had  promised  to  be  with  the  Seventh  early  in  the 
week,  "  and  that,"  said  Kitty,  "  is  just  the  one  thing 
no  one  can  argue  Jack  out  of." 

And  Helen's  face,  sad  and  pale  as  it  had  been  for 
days,  grew  still  more  sad  and  anxious  now.  This 
would  be  hard  news  for  Ellis  when  she  waked  from 
the  stupor  of  her  fever.  He  had  gone  without  one 
word,  and,  as  Helen  well  knew,  with  a  shadow,  black 


FORT    FRAYNE.  255 

and  forbidding  between  him  and  the  girl  he  so  fondly 
Vjved. 

Meantime,  spurring  rapidly  northward  and  pass 
ing  every  little  while  small  parties  of  returning 
"  hustlers,"  Wayne  was  in  chase  of  the  command.  A 
swift  courier  had  ridden  ahead  with  certain  of  the 
dispatches  that  had  been  received,  but  those  which 
came  last  of  all  the  major  bore  himself.  "  They  will 
serve  in  some  measure  to  prepare  Fenton  for  these," 
he  said,  as  he  rode  over  the  last  divide  that  separated 
him  from  the  valley  of  Trooper  Creek,  and  thanked 
his  stars  the  winds  were  still  instead  of  blowing,  as 
ofttimes  they  were  in  midwinter,  and  with  bitter 
energy,  from  the  icy  summits  to  the  northward.  Down 
along  the  frozen  stream  were  traces  of  the  morning 
fight.  Scraps  of  Indian  household  goods  and  chat 
tels,  dropped  in  the  hurry  of  their  scramble  for  the 
bluffs  beyond,  an  abandoned  travois,  a  luckless  dog, 
slain  by  a  chance  bullet,  and  here,  there  and  every 
where,  the  trampled  snow  and  the  countless  prints  of 
pony  hoofs.  Over  toward  the  west,  farther  up  the 
valley,  a  gradual  ascent  to  the  bluffs  was  seamed  with 
over  a  score  of  parallel  tracks  at  regular  intervals,  as 
though  scraped  out  of  the  snowy  surface  by  some 
giant  harrow.  This  was  where  some  troop  in  ex 
tended  order  had  swept  up  the  slope,  with  Big  Road's 
warriors  scurrying  hither  and  yon  at  the  distant  crest. 
Far  up  the  heights,  stiffening  in  death,  lay  one  of 
Amory's  beautiful  sorrels,  and  Wayne's  heart  ached 
as  he  thought  of  the  many  miles  he  had  yet  to  ride, 
the  similar  sights  he  had  yet  to  see,  and  the  galling 


256  FORT    FRAYXE. 

tidings  he  had  yet  to  deliver.  He  had  known  Fen- 
ton  over  thirty  years,  and  he  knew  well  his  deep- 
rooted  pride  in  his  profession,  and  the  rugged  hon 
esty  which  dictated  his  every  move.  He  knew  that 
now,  as  perhaps  never  before  since  the  great  days  of 
the  civil  war,  was  Fenton  enthusiastically  bound  up 
in  his  duties,  for  she  who  was  the  inspiration  of  his 
earliest  ambition  and  to  whom,  through  all  these 
years,  his  loyal  heart  had  clung,  was  there  at  Frayne 
watching,  despite  the  sorrows  of  her  widowhood,  the 
shock  and  shame  that  followed  upon  the  death  of 
her  reckless,  sin-stained  boy,  and  the  deep  anxiety 
for  her  surviving  children — watching  and  cheering 
his  steadfast  effort  to  keep  the  standard  of  the 
Twelfth  where  Farrar  had  left  it — foremost  among 
the  famous  regiments  of  the  army  that  had  been  her 
home. 

And  it  was  this  loyal,  sturdy  soldier  and  gentleman, 
in  the  height  of  his  duteous  and  most  energetic  serv 
ice,  whom  Wayne  found  himself  ordered  to  supersede 
— to  relieve  in  the  command  of  Fort  Frayne  and  so 
much  of  the  Twelfth  as  was  there  stationed,  in  order 
that  Fenton  might  repair  at  once  to  the  distant  head 
quarters  of  the  department,  there  to  answer  the 
charges  and  allegations  laid  at  his  door  by  officials  of 
the  Interior  Department,  and  by  so-called  prominent 
citizens  of  broad  Wyoming.  Verily,  the  king  of  the 
cowboys  had  not  made  his  threats  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

JUST  as  Terry  Rorke  had  said,  the  Twelfth  had 
spent  its  New  Year's  Day  hot  on  the  Indian  trail. 
Into  the  foothills  it  wound,  tortuous  and  full  of  peril, 
for  from  every  projecting  point,  from  rock  to  rock 
and  crest  to  crest,  the  warrior  rear-guard  poured 
their  fire  on  the  advancing  line.  Charges  were  fruit 
less.  The  nimble  ponies  of  the  Indians  bore  their 
riders  swiftly  out  of  harm's  way,  and  only  among 
the  charging  force  did  casualties  occur.  Still,  Fen- 
ton  had  hung  like  a  bulldog  to  his  task,  hoping  be 
fore  nightfall  to  catch  up  with  the  main  body  and 
the  moving  village,  then  to  hem  it  in.  Numerically, 
he  was  little  better  off  than  the  Indians,  and  fifty 
Indians  can  surround  five  hundred  troopers  much 
more  effectively  than  five  hundred  troopers  can  sur 
round  fifty  mounted  warriors.  Through  Bat  and 
others  he  had  vainly  striven  to  communicate  with 
Big  Road,  to  assure  him  no  harm  would  be  done; 
that  all  that  was  necessary  was  for  him  to  return  with 
his  people  under  escort  of  the  regiment  to  the  reser 
vation.  Up  to  4  P.  M.  not  a  shot  had  been  fired  by 
the  Twelfth,  even  in  response  to  a  sometimes  galling 
fusillade  from  the  Indians.  By  that  time  several 
men  had  been  unhorsed  and  two  or  three  wounded, 
and  the  thing  was  getting  exasperating,  yet  was  it 
worth  keeping  up,  for  Bat  and  other  scouts  declared 

257 


258  FORT    FRAYNE. 

the  fleeing  village  to  be  less  than  three  miles  ahead 
now,  and,  with  that  overhauled,  the  warriors  could 
be  brought  to  bay  well  south  of  the  mountains,  and 
to  the  accomplishment  of  this  without  sacrificing  men 
or  horses  to  any  great  extent,  Fenton  was  bending 
every  energy  when  overtaken  by  the  first  courier 
from  Frayne. 

Wayne  had  marked  the  dispatches  in  the  order  in 
which  they  should  be  read,  but  the  only  ones  which 
much  concerned  him  HOAV  were  from  department 
headquarters.  A  new  king  who  knew  not  Joseph,  a 
new  general  with  whom  Fenton  had  never  chanced 
to  serve,  was  there  in  command,  and  he,  coming  a 
comparative  stranger  to  the  community,  knew  little 
of  the  merits  of  the  politicians  by  whom  he  was 
speedily  besieged.  They  were  present  in  force, 
armed  with  letters  and  dispatches  by  the  score  from 
so-called  prominent  citizens  resident  along  the  Platte, 
and  Fenton  was  practically  unrepresented.  It  was 
in  no  spirit  of  unkindness,  but  rather  that  Fenton 
might  have  opportunity  to  come  thither  and  con 
front  and  confound,  if  he  could,  his  accusers,  that 
the  general  had  issued  the  first  order,  which  was 
that  Fenton  should  "  immediately  escoi't  Big  Road 
and  his  people  back  to  the  agency,  and  then  report 
to  these  headquarters  for  consultation."  That  dis 
patch,  if  delivered,  would  have  ruined  all  the  plans 
of  the  plainsmen,  and  the  wires  were  clipped  the 
moment  warning  came,  and  it  never  got  beyond  the 
old  sub-station  on  the  Laramie  until  after  the  repairs 
were  made,  but  other  dispatches  were  wired  back 


FORT    FBAYNE.  259 

from  below  the  breaks,  alleging  first,  that  so  far 
from  Teuton's  doing  as  ordered,  he  was  apparently 
bent  on  driving  Big  Road's  people  up  the  river  or 
into  the  open  field;  then,  that  he  had  done  so,  and 
that  the  Indians  were  now  raiding  the  scattered 
ranches,  and  driving  the  cattle  into  the  foothills, 
while  the  settlers  were  fleeing  in  terror.  Teuton's 
dispatches,  wired  before  Big  Road's  escapade,  had, 
of  course,  been  received,  but  his  report  of  the  situa 
tion  was  at  utter  variance  with  that  from  the  agency 
and  those  from  the  Thorpe  party.  Gross  mis 
management  and  general  incompetency  were  the 
principal  allegations  against  Fenton,  though  the 
astute  "hustlers  "  did  not  forget  to  add  drunkenness 
to  the  list  as  one  which  the  public  would  accept 
without  question,  he  being  an  army  officer;  and  when 
the  governor  himself  was  induced  to  add  his  com 
plaint  to  those  of  his  enterprising  people,  the  general 
yielded.  The  dispatches  sent  by  courier  called  for 
explanation  of  the  charges  made  by  the  agent  and 
civilians,  intimated  doubt  as  to  the  wisdom  of  Fen- 
ton's  course  or  the  accuracy  of  his  information,  and 
wound  up  with  the  significant  clause:  "Do  nothing 
to  provoke  hostilities  or  arouse  the  fears  of  the 
Indians,''  and  here  he  had  been  in  hot  pursuit  of 
them  all  the  livelong  day. 

Stung  to  the  quick,  Feutou  nevertheless  pressed 
vigorously  on.  The  result  would  justify  him,  and 
he  could  wait  for  his  vindication  until  the  campaign 
was  over.  The  village  at  sundown  could  not  be 
more  than  three  miles  away,  said  his  scouts,  and  the 


260  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

energy  of  Big  Road's  defensive  measures  was  re 
doubled.  Instructions  to  do  nothing  to  provoke 
hostilities  were  dead  letters  now  that  hostilities  had 
actually  been  provoked — not  by  him  or  his  people, 
but,  between  them,  by  Big  Road  and  the  cowboys. 
There  was  only  one  course  for  Fenton  to  take,  and 
that  was  to  overhaul  the  village  and  peaceably,  if  he 
could,  but  forcibly  if  he  must,  escort  it  back  within 
the  reservation  lines.  Bat  had  ridden  up  just  as  the 
sun  was  disappearing,  to  say  that  the  Indians  seemed 
to  be  heading  for  a  deep  cleft  in  the  foothills  through 
which  the  buffalo  in  bygone  days  had  made  their 
way.  Now,  if  Fenton  could  only  send  Farwell  or 
Amory  with  halfi  the  squadron  to  gallop  in  wide  de 
tour  to  the  west,  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  and 
seize  the  bluffs  overhanging  the  canon,  meantime 
making  every  pretense  of  keeping  up  the  pursuit 
with  the  remainder  of  his  force,  he  might  trap  the 
village  while  most  of  its  defenders  were  still  far 
away.  Darkness  settled  down  over  the  desolate 
wintry  landscape,  and  the  two  troops  dispatched  on 
this  stirring  and  perilous  mission  were  those  of 
Farwell  and  Malcolm  Leale,  the  latter  led  by  its  boy 
lieutenant,  Will  Farrar. 

One  hour  later,  as  the  advance  was  still  groping 
along  the  trail  and  the  weary  troopers,  alternately 
leading  afoot  and  riding  sleepily  in  narrow  column, 
pushed  steadily  in  their  tracks,  two  horsemen  on 
jaded  mounts  came  spurring  from  the  rear,  and 
Wayne,  with  sorrowful  face,  handed  his  dispatches 
to  the  colonel.  By  the  light  of  a  little  pocket 


FORT    FRAYNE.  261 

lantern  Fenton  read,  while  in  brooding  silence  a  knot 
of  half  a  dozen  officers  gathered  about  them.  The 
closing  paragraph  is  all  we  need  to  quote:  "You 
will,  therefore,  turn  over  the  command  to  Major 
Wayne  and  report  in  person  at  these  headquarters 
without  unnecessary  delay.  Acknowledge  receipt." 
At  any  other  time  the  colonel  might  have  been  ex 
pected  to  SAvear  vigorously,  but  the  trouble  in 
Wayne's  face  and  the  unspoken  sympathy  and  sorrow 
\\-ere  too  much  for  him.  "  All  right,  old  boy,"  said 
he,  as  he  refolded  the  papers.  "  Pitch  in  IIOAV,  and 
finish  up  the  business,  Avith  my  blessing.  Bat,"  he 
continued,  turning  to  the  swarthy  guide,  "  how  far 
is  it  over  to  the  Allison  ranch?  I  think  I'll  sleep 
there."  And  no  further  words  Avere  needed  to  tell 
the  little  group  that  their  colonel  had  been  removed 
from  command  just  on  the  eve  of  consummation  of 
his  plans,  and  he  was  the  only  man  of  the  lot  Avho 
didn't  look  as  though  all  heart  had  been  taken  out 
of  him  as  the  immediate  result. 

"Damn  that  fellow  Thorpe!  It's  his  doing," 
SAvore  the  adjutant,  between  his  set  teeth.  "He 
has  never  forgiven  us  for  spoiling  his  scheme  to  clean 
out  the  Avhole  band." 

'  '  Don't  Avaste  time  swearing,"  said  Fenton,  grimly. 
"I'll  take  that  job  off  your  hands.  They're  head 
ing  for  Elk  Springs,  Wayne,  and  I've  sent  Farwell 
with  tAVo  troops  around  to  the  left  to  find  their 
way  to  the  bluffs  and  get  there  first.  Everything 
depends  on  that." 

But  even  Fenton  hardly  realized  hoAV  very  much 


262  FORT    FRAYNE. 

depended.  It  was  now  about  seven  o'clock,  and  ever 
since  the  early  dawn  the  cavalry  had  been  pressing 
steadily  at  the  heels  of  the  Indian  rear-guard,  never 
firing,  never  responding  to  the  challenge  of  shot  or 
shout  from  the  scampering  warriors  before  them. 
Again  and  again  had  Bat  and  his  half-breed  cousin, 
La  Bonte,  striven  to  get  Big  Road  to  halt  and  parley, 
but,  though  the  signals  were  fully  understood,  Old 
Road  was  mad  with  the  mingled  rage  of  fight  and 
whiskey,  and  believed  himself  the  leader  of  an  out 
break  that  should  rival  that  of  1876  and  place  him, 
as  a  battle  chief,  head  of  an  army  of  warriors  that 
should  overrun  the  Northwest.  Anxious  only  to  get 
the  women  and  children  safely  in  among  the  fast 
nesses  of  the  hills,  he  contented  himself,  therefore, 
through  the  livelong  day,  with  holding  the  troops  at 
long  arms'  length,  opening  lively  fire  when  they  sought 
to  push  ahead.  It  was  glorious  fun  for  him  and  his. 
Well  they  knew  that  so  far,  at  least,  the  soldiers  were 
forbidden  to  attack.  With  the  coming  of  another 
day  Big  Road  planned  to  have  his  village  far  in 
among  the  clefts  and  canons  of  the  range,  where  a 
few  resolute  warriors  could  defend  the  pass  against 
an  advance,  while  he  and  his  braves,  reinforced  by 
eager  recruits  from  the  young  men  of  other  bands 
at  the  reservation,  could  fall  upon  the  flanks 
and  rear  of  Fenton's  force  and  fritter  it  a\vay  as 
Red  Cloud  had  massacred  Fcttermau's  men  long 
years  before  at  old  Fort  Kearny. 

Everything  depended  on  who  should  get  there  first, 


FORT    FRAYXE  263 

and,  as  the  Sioux  said  of  Ouster's  column,  the  bloody 
day  on  the  Little  Horn,  "The  soldiers  were  tired." 

Extending  southward  from  the  peaks  of  the  Big 
Horn  was  a  wild  range  of  irregular  heights,  covered 
in  places  with  a  thick  growth  of  hardy  young  spruce 
and  cedars  and  scrub  oak,  slashed  and  severed  here 
and  there  by  deep  and  tortuous  canons  with  precipi 
tous  sides.  Somewhere  in  among  those  hills  was  a 
big  amphitheatre  known  as  the  Indian  Race  Course, 
approachable  in  winter,  at  least,  only  through  the 
crooked  rift  or  pass  known  for  short  as  Elk  Gulch. 
In  just  such  another  natural  fastness,  and  only  a  few 
miles  away  to  the  northeast,  had  the  Cheyennes  made 
their  famous  stand  against  five  times  their  weight  in 
fighting  men  the  bitter  winter  of  1876 — a  battle  the 
cavalry  long  had  cause  to  remember,  and  now,  with 
but  a  handful  of  troops  as  compared  with  the  force 
led  in  by  MacKenzie,  Wayne  had  right  before  him 
a  similar  problem  to  tackle.  The  only  points  in  his 
favor  were  that  Big  Road's  braves  were  as  few  as  his 
own  and  that  Fenton  had  already  sent  a  force  to  race 
the  Indians  to  their  refuge. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  darkness  was  intense.  There 
was  no  moon  to  light  their  way,  and  their  only  guide 
was  the  deep  trail  in  the  snowy  surface  left  by  the 
retreating  Indians.  The  darkness  was  no  deeper 
than  the  gloom  in  every  heart,  for  Fenton  was  gone, 
a  wronged  and  calumniated  man,  and  they,  his  loyal 
soldiers  obedient  to  a  higher  duty  still,  were  forced 
to  push  on  and  finish  his  work  without  him.  For 
an  hour  only  at  snail's  pace  had  they  followed  the 


264  FORT    FBAYNE. 

trail.  Bat  and  his  associates  had  had  many  a  nar 
row  escape.  Lieutenant  Martin,  commanding  the 
advance,  had  had  his  horse  shot  under  him.  Sergeant 
Roe  had  a  bullet  through  his  coat,  and  Corporal 
Werrick,  riding  eagerly  in  the  lead,  got  another 
through  the  shoulder.  Luckily  it  was  not  very  cold, 
but  all  the  same,  most  of  the  men  were  becoming 
sluggish  arid  sleepy,  and  that  was  just  about  the 
time  Wayne  might  be  expected  to  wake  up — and 
wake  up  he  did. 

"Zhave  had  no  orders  on  no  account  to  attack," 
said  he,  "and  I  haven't  time  to  read  all  the  rot 
they've  wired  to  Fenton.  Watch  for  the  next  shots 
ahead,  there,"  he  cried  to  the  foremost  troopers, 
"and  sock  it  to  them?" 

Then  it  was  beautiful  to  see  how  even  the  horses 
seemed  to  rouse  from  their  stupor  and  apathy  and 
something  almost  like  a  cheer  burst  from  the  lips  of 
the  younger  men.  Old  hands  took  a  "swig"  of 
water  from  their  canteens  and  a  bite  at  the  comfort 
ing  plug.  Out  from  the  sockets  came  the  brown 
carbines,  and  a  fresh  platoon  was  ordered  up  to  re 
lieve  the  advance,  and  Lieutenant  Randolph  took 
Martin's  place  at  the  front.  Every  little  while 
through  the  darkness  ahead  had  come  a  flash  and 
report  from  the  invisible  foe,  and,  as  these  had  been 
suffered  unavenged,  it  was  soon  observed  that  the 
lurking  warriors  grew  bolder,  and  that  with  every 
shot  the  distance  seemed  to  decrease.  For  half  an 
hour  past  they  had  been  coming  in  from  easy  pistol 
range,  and  Randolph  took  the  cue.  Bidding  his 


FORT    FRAYXE.  265 

men  open  out  and  ride  several  yards  apart,  yet 
aligned  as  much  as  was  possible,  he  ordered  carbines 
dropped  and  revolvers  drawn,  and  then,  trotting 
along  the  rear  of  the  dozen,  gave  his  quick  caution 
to  man  after  man.  "Watch  for  the  flash  and  let 
drive  at  it.  Even  if  we  don't  hit,  we'll  keep  them 
at  respectful  distance,"  he  said,  and  the  words  were 
hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when  a  ruddy  light  leaped 
over  the  snow,  a  shot  went  zipping  past  his  head, 
and  then,  followed  by  a  roar  of  approval  from  the 
main  column,  the  revolvers  of  the  advance  crackled 
and  sputtered  their  answer.  The  landscape  was  lit 
up  for  an  instant;  dark  forms  went  pounding  and 
scurrying  away  from  the  front,  and  a  moment  later 
there  uprose  a  cheer  over  at  the  right  and  Randolph 
galloped  to  the  spot.  An  Indian  pony  lay  kicking, 
struggling,  stiffening  in  the  snow,  shot  through  the 
body,  and  the  rider  had  had  to  run  for  it. 

"That's  right,  Randolph!"  said  the  major,  spur 
ring  to  his  side.  "Now  keep  'em  off,  but  don't 
push  too  hard.  Remember,  we've  got  to  give  Far- 
well  time." 

"  How  far  ahead  is  that  confounded  canon,  Bat?  " 
asked  the  adjutant  at  the  moment. 

' '  Not  more  than  two  mile  now.  I  hunt  buffalo  all 
over  here  when  I  was  a  boy,"  was  the  answer.  "  Big 
Road's  people  all  there  by  this  time,  I'm  afraid." 

"Then  you  think  that  they  got  there  first  -that 
they've  got  the  bluffs?" 

"'Fraidso.  Big  Road  no  fool.  lie  wouldn't  let 
his  village  drive  into  a  gulch  and  not  guard  the 


266  FORT    FRAYNE. 

bluffs.  If  the  captain  got  there  first,  they'd  have 
found  it  out  by  this  time  and  signaled  for  help.  The 
reason  I  believe  they  think  they're  all  safe  is  that  so 
many  Indians  hang  around  us  out  here." 

And  just  then  came  a  grunt  of  disgust  from 
La  Bonte.  The  corporal  at  his  side  said  "Hell!" 
and  an  excitable  young  trooper  called  out,  "Look 
there!  What's  that?  "  for,  over  at  the  northwest,  all 
on  a  sudden,  a  brilliant  column  of  flame  had  burst 
through  the  blackness  of  the  night  and  sent  a  broad 
glare  streaming  over  the  snow-clad  surface  of  the 
rolling  prairie. 

"They're  on  to  us,  by  the  Eternal!"  cried  the 
adjutant,  who  loved  the  Jacksoriian  form  of  exple 
tive.  "Listen!  "  But  no  one  listened  more  than  an 
instant.  Even  through  the  muffling  coverlet  of 
snow,  the  rumble  and  rush  of  a  hundred  pony  hoofs, 
like  low,  distant  thunder,  told  of  the  instant  flight 
of  Big  Head's  braves  in  answer  to  the  signal.  Wayne 
was  ablaze  in  a  second. 

"Close  up  on  the  head  of  column!"  he  shouted  to 
the  troop  leaders.  "  Come  on,  now,  men,  for  all 
you're  worth.  There  isn't  a  second  to  spare." 

And  as  the  amazed  and  wearied  horses  gave  answer 
to  the  spur  and  broke  into  lumbering  gallop,  far  over 
at  the  west  the  rocks  began  to  ring  to  the  crackle  of 

o  o 

musketry.  Farwell  and  the  Sioux  had  clinched  on 
the  bluffs  to  the  south  of  the  springs,  and  were  fight 
ing  in  the  dark  for  the  right  of  way. 

Ten  miles  away,  at  Allison's  Ranch,  wearied  with 
the  sleepless  toil  of  twenty-four  hours,  too  weary  to 


FORT    FKAYXE.  267 

be  kept  awake  even  by  the  exasperating  sense  of  his 
wrongs,  the  colonel  was  just  rolling  into  his  blankets 
for  a  much-needed  rest  before  setting  forth  with  the 
rising  sun  on  his  homeward  road.  Fifty  miles  away 
over  the  white  expanse  of  prairie  under  the  cold 
and  glittering  skies,  Marjorie  Farrar  sat  by  the  bed 
side  of  her  beloved  daughter,  praying  ceaselessly  for 
the  safety  of  an  equally  beloved  son  now  riding,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  brave  young  life,  to  prove  his 
worthiness  to  bear  the  father's  name  in  headlono- 

O 

fight  with  a  savage  and  skillful  foe. 

And  if  ever  a  young  fellow,  wearer  of  the  army 
blue,  realized  to  the  full  extent  the  hopes  and  faith 
and  fondness  centered  in  him  this  night  of  nights,  it 
was  Will  Farrar.  Barely  arrived  by  man's  estate, 
not  yet  a  year  out  of  the  cadet  coatee,  with  his 
mother,  his  sister,  his  sweetheart,  all  there  at  the  old 
fort  so  long  associated  with  his  father's  name,  with 
that  name  to  maintain,  and  not  only  that,  but  with 
Malcolm  Leale's  old  troop  as  one  man  looking  up  to 
him  as  their  leader,  yet  competent,  down  to  the  very 
last  man,  to  note  the  faintest  flaw  should  he  fail 
them,  the  junior  subaltern  of  the  Twelfth,  the 
"plcbe"  lieutenant,  as  his  elders  laughingly  spoke  of 
him,  found  himself,  as  though  some  special  provi 
dence  had  swept  from  his  path  every  possible  barrier 
to  danger  and  distinction,  lifted  suddenly  to  a  com 
mand  that  seldom  falls  to  army  subalterns  to-day 
even  within  a  dozen  years,  and  bidden  here  and 
now  to  win  his  spurs  for  the  honor  of  the  old  troop, 
the  honor  of  the  Twelfth,  the  honor  of  the  name  his 


268  FORT    FRAYNE. 

father  made  famous,  and  that  he  must  maintain — or 
die  in  trying  to.  All  this,  and  God  alone  knows  how 
much  more  besides,  went  thrilling  through  his  very 
soul,  as,  on  Farwell's  left  and  in  utter  silence,  he 
rode  swiftly  onward  at  the  head  of  the  column. 
Leaving  to  his  own  first  lieutenant  the  command  of 
the  grays,  Captain  Farwell  had  told  him  to  follow 
close  in  the  tracks  of  Farrar'smen,  and,  with  only  one 
of  the  Indian  company  to  aid  and  no  other  guide  of 
any  kind  but  his  senses  and  the  stars,  had  placed 
himself  in  the  lead  and  pushed  forth  into  the  night. 

"Swing  well  out  to  the  west,"  were  Fenton's  last 
orders.  "Keep  dark,  as  you  know  how.  Head  for 
the  hills  as  soon  as  you're  sure  you're  far  beyond 
hearing,  and  try  to  strike  those  bluffs  a  couple  of 
miles  at  least  back  of  the  mouth  of  the  canon.  You 
ought  to  get  there  ahead  of  the  village.  Halt  it  with 
a  few  men  down  in  the  gorge,  but  hold  your  main 
body  on  the  bluffs.  We'll  keep  Big  Road  busy." 

Luckily  the  stars  were  brilliant  in  the  wintry  sky, 
and  the  constellations  out  in  all  their  glory.  The 
pole  star  glowed  high  aloft  and  held  them  to  their 
course.  Out  in  the  advance,  lashing  his  horse  with 
Indian  whip  to  keep  him  to  his  speed,  rode  Brave 
Bear,  a  corporal  of  the  Ogallalla  company,  side  by 
side  with  Sergeant  Bremmer.  Whenever  the  drifts 
were  deep  in  the  ravines  one  of  them  would  halt  and 
warn  the  column  to  swerve  to  the  right  or  left. 
Only  a  yard  or  two  behind  the  two  officers — Farwell, 
grizzled  and  stout,  Farrar,  fair  and  slender — came 
loping  or  trotting  the  leading  four,  and,  though  it 


FORT    FRAYNE.  269 

was  not  his  accustomed  place,  there  rode  Terry  Rorke, 
where,  as  he  had  explained  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
sergeant,  he  could  be  close  to  "Masther  Will."  The 
prairie  was  broad  and  open,  and  fairly  level.  There 
was  no  need  of  diminishing  front.  A  platoon  could 
have  ridden  abreast,  and  found  no  serious  obstacle, 
except  the  snowdrifts  in  the  deep  coulees.  Two 
miles  to  the  west  they  sped,  moving  cautiously  at  first 
so  as  to  give  no  inkling  of  their  intent,  and,  for  the 
first  mile,  almost  doubling  back  upon  their  tracks,  so 
as  to  keep  well  away  from  the  Indian  rear-guard. 

Then  in  long  curve,  Farwell  led  them  toward  the 
low,  rolling  hills,  now  dimly  visible  against  the  firm 
ament,  and  presently  the  ravines  began  to  grow 
deeper  but  farther  apart,  the  slopes  more  abrupt  and 
the  westward  hills  loomed  closer  in  their  path, 
and  still  the  snowy  expanse  showed  unbroken,  and 
Bear,  bending  low  over  his  pony's  neck  and  watch 
ing  for  sign,  declared  that  no  Indians  had  crossed  as 
yet  into  the  hills,  and  that  the  entrance  to  Elk  Gulch 
was  noAV  not  more  then  a  mile  to  the  north.  And 
here  the  hills  rolled  higher,  both  to  their  front  and 
toward  the  west,  but  Farwell  rode  on  up  a  grad 
ual  ascent  until  the  slope  began  to  grow  steep;  then, 
dismounting,  led  the  way  afoot,  the  whole  column 
rolling  out  of  saddle  and  towing  its  horses  in  his 
track.  Up,  up  they  climbed  until,  breathing  hard 
now,  but  pushing  relentlessly  on,  the  captain  reached 
the  crest,  and  faint  and  dim  in  the  starlight,  dotted 
here  and  there  with  little  clumps  of  spruce  or  cedar, 
the  rolling,  billowy  surface  lay  before  him,  shrouded 


270  FORT    FRAYNE. 

in  its  mantle  of  glistening  snow.  Leading  on  until 
the  whole  command  had  time  to  reach  the  top,  he 
motioned  Will  to  halt,  while  he,  with  Bear  and  Ser 
geant  Bremmer,  pushed  a  few  yards  farther  on.  The 
column  took  a  breathing  spell  and  waited. 

Far  out  to  the  eastward  and  below  them  an  occa 
sional  flash  as  of  rifle  or  revolver  sparkled  through 
the  night,  and  the  faint  report  was  presently  borne 
to  their  listening  ears.  Big  Road  was  still  barring 
the  way  of  the  column  then,  and  that  meant  that  all 
the  village  was  not  yet  safely  within  the  grim  walls  of 
the  canon.  Xorthward  the  snowy  slopes  rolled  higher 
still,  but  it  was  northwestward  among  the  clumps  of 
trees  that  the  leaders  had  gone.  The  steam  from  the 
horses'  nostrils  and  from  their  heaving  flanks  rose  on 
the  keen  air  and  the  blood  raced  and  tingled 
in  the  veins  of  the  men.  Not  a  whisper  of  mountain 
breeze  was  astir.  The  night  was  as  still  as  the 
voiceless  skies.  Three — four  minutes,  with,  beating- 
hearts,  the  little  command  watched  and  waited,  and 
drew  longer  breath,  and  then  a  dark  shape  came  jog 
ging  back  from  the  front  and  Farwell's  voice  said : 
"Mount  and  come  on." 

Then  came  fifteen  minutes'  trot,  winding  snake- 
like  and  in  long  extended  column  of  twos  among  the 

O  O 

stunted  trees,  and  then  Farwell  ordered  "Walk," 
for  once  more  a  dark  form  loomed  up  in  their  path, 
and  Bremmer  wTheeled  his  horse  about  and  rode  by 
the  captain's  side,  eagerly  explaining  in  low  tone. 
Will  caught  the  words,  "  Right  ahead.  You  can  hear 
them  distinctly, sir, "and  for  the  life  of  him  Will  could 


FORT    FRAYNE.  27 1 

not  quite  control  the  flutter  of  his  heart.  "Halt! 
Dismount  and  wait  here,"  were  the  next  orders,  al 
most  whispered,  and  again  Farwell  pushed  out  to  the 
front  and  again  the  column  swung  out  of  saddle, 
watched  and  waited,  and  presently  men  began  to 
stamp  about  in  the  snow  and  thrash  their  stiffening 
fingers. 

"  Are  we  close  to  'em  now,  Masther  Will?  "  asked 
old  Terry  unrebuked. 

"Right  ahead,  they  say,  corporal.  But  this,  re 
member,  is  only  the  women  and  children  with  a  few 
of  the  old  men." 

"Ah,  it's  your  father's  son  ye  are,  sorr— God  rest 
his  soul!  If  it  was  daytime,  ye  could  almost  see 
from  here  the  breaks  of  the  Mini  Pusa,  where  we 
struck  these  Indians  three  years  ago  this  cruel 
winter. 

"I  know,"  said  Will,  briefly,  "and  if  — if  it 
comes  to  fighting  here,  Ilorke,  remember  father's 
last  order.  It  may  be  harder  than  ever  to  tell  buck 
from  squaw  in  so  dim  a  light,  but  I  want  the  men  to 
heed  it." 

"They  will,  sorr,  as  they  would  if  the  captain 
himself  was  at  their  head,  and  Masther  Will,  for  the 
love  of  heaven,  wherever  ye  have  to  go  this  night 
let  me  be  wan  of  thim  that  go  wid  ye  if  ye  only 
take  wan,"  and  there  was  a  break  in  the  old  fellow's 
voice,  as  he  began  his  plea. 

"Hush,  Korke.  We'll  see  to  that,"  said  Farrar. 
"Here  comes  the  captain  back!"  And  Farwell 
came  with  speed. 


272  FORT   FKAYNE. 

"Mr.  Farrar,"  he  said,  an  unmistakable  tremor  in 
his  tone,  "there's  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  They 
are  passing  through  the  canon  now.  We  can  hear 
them  plainly,  but  they  have  flankers  out  along  the 
bluff.  Two  bucks  rode  by  not  a  moment  ago,  and 
Bear  says  the  whole  outfit  is  pushing  for  the  Race 
Track.  I've  got  to  head  them  off  further  up  the 
gulch.  Bear  says  we  can  get  down  in  single  file  by 
an  old  game  trail  there,  and  I  wish  you  to  dismount 
right  here,  line  this  slope  with  your  men,  send  at 
least  a  dozen  down  into  the  ravine,  and  stand  off 
Big  Road  and  his  fellows  while  we  corral  that  whole 
village  and  start  it  for  home.  They  can't  tell  how 
few  you  are  in  number,  and  Fenton  will  be  close  at 
their  heels.  Between  you  they  ought  to  be  forced  to 
the  north  side,  while  I'm  driving  the  village  out  to 
the  south.  You  understand,  do  you  not?  It's  a 
fight  in  the  dark,  and  they're  afraid  of  it,  anyhow. 
You've  got  a  splendid  troop,  lad,  and  they  won't  fail 
you.  Don't  be  ashamed  to  ask  your  old  sergeants 
for  advice.  You  understand  fully?" 

"  I  do,"  said  "Will,  stoutly,  though  his  young  heart 
was  hammering  in  his  breast.  "We'll  do  our  best, 
sir.  Form  fours,  sergeant,  and  link — lively,"  he 
added,  then  grasped  the  captain's  hand  one  instant 
before  the  latter  turned  away.  Silently,  quickly, 
the  men  linked  horses,  and,  leaving  number  four  of 
each  set  in  saddle,  came  running  up  to  the  front,  un- 
slinging  carbine  on  the  way.  Farwell  and  his  fel 
lows  went  trotting  off  among  the  clumps  of  pine  as 
the  last  man  fell  in  on  the  left.  Then,  quickly 


FORT    FRAYNE.  273 

dividing  off  a  dozen  troopers  from  that  flank,  Will 
placed  the  first  sergeant  in  charge  and  bade  him  find 
the  way  down  the  steep  incline  to  the  bottom  of  the 
gorge,  which,  there,  was  not  more  than  two  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  below,  giving  him  instructions  to  be 
ready  to  sweep  it  with  their  fire  when  the  warriors 
came,  as  come  they  speedily  must.  Next,  facing 
eastward,  he  deployed  his  men,  causing  them  to 
stand  or  kneel  in  the  shelter  of  the  little  trees,  but 
to  keep  vigilant  lookout.  Another  little  squad  was 
strung  out  down  the  face  of  the  bluff,  to  keep  con 
nection  with  the  men  descending  to  the  depths  of 
the  canon,  and  these  preparations  were  barely  com 
pleted,  when  riding  at  rapid  gait,  two  horsemen 
came  lashing  up  the  eastward  slope.  The  panting  of 
the  ponies  could  be  heard  before  anything  could  be 
seen,  but  the  instant  the  vague  shapes  appeared,  two 
sudden  shots  rang  out  on  the  night  and  then  a  dozen 
— a  sputtering  volley — flashed  from  the  line. 

Down  went  one  pony,  struggling  and  rolling  in 
the  snow.  Away  sped  the  other  back  into  the 
blackness  of  the  night.  Then  a  dark  object  seemed 
to  disengage  itself  from  the  struggling  pony  and  go 
crouching  and  limping  away.  Two  or  three  excited 
young  soldiers  banged  their  carbines  without  the 
faintest  aim.  Then  it  seemed  as  though  the  hill 
sides  woke  to  a  wild  revel  of  battle,  for,  behind 
them,  far  up  the  canon  there  rose  a  wail  of  terror 
from  the  fleeing  squaws  and  shouts  of  the  few  old 
braves  left  to  guard  them,  resounding  war  whoops  of 
younger  Indians  somewhere,  anywhere,  everywhere, 


274  FOET    FRAYNE. 

down  the  slopes  to  the  east.  Then  a  bright 
column  of  flame  shot  high  in  air  over  among  the 
rocks  to  the  north  of  the  gate,  and  afar  out  over  the 
eastward  prairie  Big  Road  and  his  braves  came  dash 
ing,  driving,  thundering  to  the  rescue. 

"They'll  not  try  the  gulch,  sorr,"  shouted  Rorke. 
in  his  ear.  "  Only  a  few  will  push  in  there,  most 
of  'em  will  come  this  way  and  get  around  us  to  our 
right." 

"Open  out,  men!  Push  out  southward  there  as 
far  as  you  can,"  shouted  Will,  as  he  ran  bounding 
through  the  snow  toward  the  right  of  his  invisible 
line.  "Watch  for  them!  They'll  come  with  a  rush, 
when  they  come  at  all!  " 

And  Rorke,  whose  business  it  was  to  remain  with 
his  "comrades  in  battle"  where  first  he  was 
posted  near  the  brow  of  the  steep,  went  running 
after  his  young  commander  as  hard  as  he  could  go, 
with  no  man  to  stop  him. 

In  the  excitement  and  darkness,  in  the  thrill  of 
the  moment,  some  of  the  men  seemed  disposed  to  hud 
dle  together  rather  than  to  increase  their  intervals,  for 
plainly  now  could  be  heard  a  dull  thunder  of  hoofs 
— the  roar  of  the  coming  storm.  Then,  too,  shad 
owy  spectres  of  horsemen  could  be  dimly  seen  dart 
ing  into  partial  view  and  out  again  like  the  flash 
that  greeted  them.  But  far  up  the  gorge,  behind 
Farrar's  line  the  sound  of  battle  grew  fiercer  and 
louder.  Then  down  from  the  depths  of  the  canon 
there  came  sudden  clamor  of  shot  and  cheer  and 
challenge  and  yells  of  rage  and  defiance;  and  then 


FORT    FRAYKE.  275 

all  on  a  sudden,  out  from  among  the  stunted  trees, 
with  panting,  struggling,  bounding  ponies,  with 
lashing,  bending,  yelling  braves,  there  burst  upon 
them  the  main  body  of  the  Indians,  three-score 
warriors  at  least,  and,  despite  the  ring  of  shots,  on 
and  through  and  over  they  rushed  the  slim  and  ex 
tended  skirmish  line,  and  Will  Farrar,  springing 
for  the  shelter  of  a  little  cedar,  was  struck  full  in 
the  breast  by  a  muscular  shoulder  and  knocked  back 
ward  into  the  snow.  He  struggled  to  his  feet,  grop 
ing  for  his  revolver,  just  in  time  to  meet  the  dash  of 
half  a  dozen  racing  braves,  all  yelling  like  fiends. 
Something  crashed  upon  his  skull  and  struck  a 
million  sparks  or  stars,  and  everything  whirled  out 
of  sight  and  sound  and  sense  as  the  young  officer 
went  down,  face  foremost,  into  the  drifts. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  THE  Battle  of  the  Ghosts" — so  Big  Road's  peo 
ple  called  it,  long  months  after — fought  late  at  night 
and  far  up  the  slopes  of  the  Elk  range,  was  reported 
at  Fort  Frayne  before  the  rising  of  another  sun. 
The  mysterious  system  of  signaling  which  enabled 
the  Indians  of  the  reservations  in  Nebraska  to  know 
the  details  of  the  Ouster  massacre  before  they  could 
be  wired  from  Bismarck,  was  here  in  use  again,  and 
stragglers  from  the  band  far  back  at  Trooper  Creek, 
and  even  the  cowboys  and  ranchmen  carousing  about 
Bunco  Jim's  in  honor  of  the  triumph  of  their  plans, 
knew  all  about  Farwell's  overtaking  the  village,  of 
Farrar's  desperate  stand,  and  Wayne's  long  gallop 
to  their  support  before  the  first  tidings  were 
whispered  within  the  silent  walls  across  the  stream, 
or  even  guessed  at  by  the  grim  old  soldier,  rousing 
from  his  sleep  barely  ten  miles  from  the  seat  of 
action.  The  first  news  to  reach  the  garrison  came 
from  "Jimtown,"  and  was  laughed  to  scorn  by 
members  of  the  guard.  The  next  words  went  fear 
fully  along  among  the  kitchens  of  Officers'  Row,  and 
speedily  reached  the  ears  of  the  anxious  wives  and 
children  of  the  soldiers  in  the  field,  and  still  the  sur 
geon  left  in  charge  at  Frayne  refused  to  believe  the 
rumors  and  hastened  to  forbid  that  any  one  should 
speak  of  them  where  they  could  reach  the  ears  of  the 

276 


FORT    FRAYKE0  277 

household  of  Farrar,  for  the  croakers  told  of  fell 
disaster  and  of  the  death  of  the  last  soldier  of  that 
honored  name. 

But  bad  news  travels  fast,  and  the  direful  tidings 
reached  Lucretia  Fenton's  ears  while  Kitty  still 
slept  the  sleep  of  the  young,  the  innocent  and  un 
suspicious,  and  what  Lucretia  knew  she  could  never 
conceal.  The  morning  gun  had  failed  to  wake  Will's 
dainty  ladylove;  the  trumpets  rang  no  reveille,  for 
there  was  no  garrison  to  rouse,  arid  only  one  trum 
peter  remained  to  sound  the  calls,  but  people  were 
up  and  astir  and  hurrying  from  house  to  house  long 
before  the  usual  hour,  and  Marjorie  Farrar,  watch 
ing  by  the  bedside  of  her  stricken  daughter,  heard 
with  straining  ears  the  excited  tones  of  the  servants 
at  the  back  doors,  and  but  for  Helen  Daunton's 
vigilance  would  herself  have  gone  to  ascertain  the 
cause.  Stipulating  that  her  friend  should  not  go 
down  stairs,  Helen  had  hastened  forth  finding  their 
own  kitchen  deserted,  and,  as  the  colonel's  house 
was  but  a  few  rods  away,  and  Lucretia  was  there  at 
the  gate  in  vehement  recitative  with  Mrs.  Amory, 
and  certain  of  the  younger  belles  of  the  garrison  as 
listeners,  Helen  hastened  thither,  only  to  see  the 
party  scatter  at  her  approach.  This  in  itself  was 
ominous,  but  it  was  no  time  for  hesitation.  Some 
of  the  party  were  evidently  in  tears.  The  old  chap 
lain  was  rapidly  approaching  from  his  quarters  on 
the  westward  side;  the  doctor,  field  glass  in  hand, 
was  studying  the  snowy  expanse  to  the  north  from 
the  edge  of  the  bluff.  With  him  stood  the  sergeant 


278  FORT    FRAYNE. 

of  the  guard,  and  another  non-commissioned  officer 
was  hastening  toward  him  up  the  sentry  post  of  No.  5. 
It  was  to  them  she  appealed,  and  in  their  faces  she 
read  the  first  intimation  of  ill  news. 

The  doctor  turned,  as  though  he  had  been  expect 
ing  her,  and  held  forth  his  hand.  "I  am  glad  you 
are  here,"  he  said,  "for  I  have  reason  to  disbelieve 
the  news  that  has  been  frittering  in  ever  since  dawn, 
but  I  wish  it  kept  from  Mrs.  Farrar  as  long  as  pos 
sible." 

Helen's  face  had  turned  white  as  the  snow.  He 
saw  it  and  drew  her  arm  within  his  own.  "Strag 
glers  from  Big  Road's  band  say — those  that  were 
left  at  Trooper  Creek,  at  least — that  there  was  a  fight 
last  night.  Part  of  the  village  was  captured,  and 
part  of  the  band  broke  through  and  got  away.  The 
Indians  claim  to  have  killed  several  of  our  people, 
but  they  are  the  biggest  boasters  on  the  face  of  the 
globe.  The  cowboys  over  yonder  believe  it,  because 
they  hate  Fenton  and  the  Twelfth,  and  wouldn't  be 
sorry  to  have  them  worsted,  because  that  would 
bring  on  a  big  war  and  lots  of  troops.  We  would 
have  heard  it  by  this  time,  in  some  way,  had  there 
been  serious  disaster." 

"But,  doctor,  Miss  Fenton  and  others  with  her 
hastened  away  when  they  saw  me  coming,  and  they 
were  in  tears." 

"Oh,  they've  got  hold  of  some  silly  story  that  the 
servants  have  been  gabbling,  and  that  I've  tried  to 
test,  that  Farrar  is  among  the  injured.  It  all  comes 
from  that  vile  roost  over  there,"  said  he  scowling 


FORT    FRAYXE.  279 

malignantly  at  "Jimtown."  "No!  don't  you 
give  way,  Mrs.  Daunton,"  he  continued,  as  she 
seemed  to  shiver  and  tremble.  "I  shall  need  all 
your  strength  if  there  be  trouble  coming.  But,  if 
my  opinion  is  not  sufficient,  let  me  tell  you  what 
Captain  Leale  thinks.  He  says  that  the  Indians 
wouldn't  fight  in  the  dark  except  at  long  range,  and 
the  story  is  that  Will  was  tomahawked.  Keep  every 
thing  from  her,  therefore,  for  the  present.  Colonel 
Fenton  will  be  here  by  noon." 

"Keep  everything  from  her,  doctor!  A  mother 
reads  faces  as  you  do  books.  No  one  can  conceal 
from  Mrs.  Farrar  that  ill  news  is  in  the  air,  and  that 
it  is  of  her  boy.  Is  there  no  way  we  can  find  the 
truth?  Anything,  almost,  would  be  better  than  sus 
pense!"  she  cried,  with  breaking  voice. 

"I  know  of  none,  my  poor  friend,"  he  gently  an 
swered.  "All  over  there  at  the  settlement  is  riot 
and  confusion.  They  believe  everything  and  know 
nothing.  It  may  be  hours  before  we  can  get  details, 
for  the  Indians  say  the  fight  took  place  away  in 
among  the  hills  through  Elk  Springs  canon,  over 
fifty  miles  north  of  us,  and  the  telegraph  line  from 
Laramie  to  the  old  post  follows  the  stage  road  from 
Fetterman  far  to  the  east.  If  any  reports,  however, 
had  gone  in  by  way  of  Laramie  they  would  surely 
have  been  repeated  up  here  for  our  benefit." 

And  just  then  a  man  came  hurrying  to  them  from 
the  line  of  officers'  quarters.  It  was  Leale's  attend 
ant.  "The  captain  says,  sir,  that  he  thinks  if  you 


280  FORT    FRAYNE. 

wire  thiough  Laramie  they  will  be  having  news  by 
this  time  at  Buffalo  or  McKinney  stage  stations." 

"That  was  like  Leale,"  thought  the  doctor,  "and 
he  must  have  heard  she  was  here  with  me."  "It's 
worth  trying,"  he  said,  aloud.  "Will  you  go  with 
me  to  the  office?" 

"I  must.  I  cannot  return  to  her — with  such  news 
as  I  have  heard."  And  so,  together,  they  hastened 
over  the  snowy  parade,  and  Marjorie  Farrar,  watch 
ing  from  the  dormer  window  of  Ellis's  little  room, 
saw  them  and  read  the  motive  of  their  going. 

Ten  minutes  later  a  dramatic  scene  occurred  in 
that  shabby  little  office — one  that  Frayne  has  not  yet 
ceased  to  tell  of,  and  will  long  remember.  Kurtz, 
the  operator,  was  clicking  away  at  his  instrument  as 
the  doctor  entered.  "I've  got  Laramie,  sir,  now," 
he  answered  in  response  to  the  first  question  asked 
him,  "and  he  says  Buffalo  knows  nothing  yet.  The 
first  news  ought  to  come  through  the  stage  station 
near  Allison's  ranch.  Colonel  Fenton  was  over  there 
last  night,  but  nothing  has  been  heard  this  morning. 
The  operator  is  there  now." 

"Wire  to  him,  then!  Urge  him  to  find  out 
whether  there  was  a  fight  in  the  hills — whether  Colo 
nel  Fenton  is  still  at  Allison's,  and  get  any  authentic 
news  he  can  and  send  it  here  at  once." 

And  even  as  Kurtz  began  clicking  his  message 
there  was  some  sudden  check,  an  eager  light  shot 
into  his  face,  an  expression  of  keen,  intense  interest. 
He  let  go  his  key  and  sat  listening  to  the  quick 
beating  of  the  tiny  hammer  of  the  instrument,  then 


FORT    FRAYNE.  281 

seized  a  pencil  and  began  to  write  just  as  a  faltering 
step  was  heard  on  the  creaking  woodwork  of  the 
piazza.  The  door  burst  open,  and  in,  with  wild 
eyes  and  disheveled  hair,  a  heavy  cloak  thrown 
about  her,  but  without  overshoes, without  gloves,  all 
oblivious  to  the  bitter  cold,  Marjorie  Farrar  rushed 
in  upon  them. 

"Tell  me  instantly,"  she  began;  but  the  doctor, 
an  inspiration  seizing  him  as  he  read  the  operator's 
face,  turned  with  uplifted  hand,  with  reassuring 
smile  as  Helen  opened  her  arms  to  receive  her  friend. 
There  was  a  moment  more  of  breathless,  harrowing 
suspense,  of  swift  clicking  at  the  table,  of  swift 
skimming  pencil,  and  then  Kurtz  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  placed  in  Mrs.  Farrar's  trembling  hand  the  yel 
low  brown  sheet.  With  eyes  that  seemed  starting 
from  their  sockets,  she  read.  Then,  with  one  glad 
cry,  "Thank  God!  Oh,  thank  God!"  threw  herself 
on  Helen's  breast.  The  doctor  seized  the  fluttering 
paper  ere  it  reached  the  floor  and  read  aloud: 

"My  congratulations  on  Will's  gallant  bearing  in 
his  maiden  fio-ht.  He  merits  the  name  he  bears. 

~ 

Expect  us  home  to-morrow  night,  very  hungry. 

GEORGE  FENTON." 

But  that  was  only  a  part  of  the  story. 

What  Leale  said  was  true  enough.  The  Indians 
would  not  fight  in  the  dark  except  at  long  range  but 
that  did  not  prevent  their  taking  advantage  of  the 
dark  for  a  sudden  rush  that  would  enable  them  to 
burst  through  what  they  well  knew  could  only  be  a 
thin  and  widely  dispersed  line.  It  was  easier  to  do 


282  FORT    FRAYNE. 

it  in  the  dark,  as  the  warriors  well  knew,  than  in 
broad  daylight,  and  so,  learning  from  their  vigilant 
scouts  about  where  Farrar's  men  were  deployed, 
they  rode  forward  in  noiseless  array  until  close  upon 
them,  then  at  given  signal,  and  with  full  understand 
ing  that  no  one  was  to  stop  for  anything,  they 
dashed  forward  over  the  snow  at  headlong  speed. 
The  few  shots  fired  whizzed  by  their  ears  without 
checking  them  in  the  least,  though  two  Sioux  saddles, 
by  great  good  luck,  were  emptied,  and  when  the  pony 
of  one  low -bending  warrior  collided  with  Farrar  and 
keeled  him  over,  others  following  behind  raced 
through  just  as  he  was  scrambling  to  his  feet,  and 
one  of  the  riders  had  struck  wildly  with  his  war 
club  at  the  dark  object  and  downed  it  again.  The 
whole  band  was  out  of  sight  in  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell  it.  The  crash  and  sputter  of  hoofs  could  be 
heard  as  they  thundered  away  and  then  the  loud 
crackling  of  rifle  and  revolver,  as  the  band  reached 
the  descent  to  the  canon  farther  to  the  West  and 
found  Farwell's  led  horses  on  the  bluff. 

It  was  then  as  the  sergeants  were  raising  Will, 
stunned  and  bleeding,  to  his  feet  that  they  realized 
not  an  instant  must  be  lost  in  hastening  to 
Farwell's  aid,  and,  while  one  bathed  with  snow  the 
aching,  bewildered  head,  and  another  gave  the 
young  officer  water  from  his  canteen,  a  third  helped 
place  the  boy  in  saddle  and  gave  the  word  to  the 
men  to  follow.  Another  minute  and  Leale's  men, 
led  by  their  lieutenant — grasping  at  the  pommel,  all 
the  same,  to  steady  himself  in  his  seat — went  charg- 


FORT    FRAYXE.  283 

ing  through  the  wooded  highland  and  tumbled  in  on 
Farwell's  assailants  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  With 
every  minute  Will  was  reviving  and  pulling  himself 
together  again,  and  by  the  time  Wayne  and  his 
fellows  came  riding  in  to  their  support  through  the 
fire-spitting  clumps  of  evergreen,  the  boy  was  shout 
ing  his  orders  and  cheering  his  men  as  though  no 
blow  had  ever  downed  him.  But  Wayne's  coming 
relieved  him  of  all  responsibility  on  that  side,  se 
cured  Farwell  in  his  grasp  on  the  village,  and  when 
at  last  Big  Road's  sullen,  beaten  braves  slunk  away 
through  the  timber,  leaving  the  greater  part  of  the 
village,  women,  children,  old  folks,  and  a  few  dis 
gusted  warriors  in  the  hands  of  the  troops,  AVill's 
frantically  aching  head  reminded  him  that  he  was  in 
need  of  attention,  and  then  it  was  discovered  that  he 
was  literally  bathed  in  blood,  and  it  was  time  for 
him  to  faint  from  the  loss  of  it. 

Heavens!  what  a  to-do  there  was  at  Frayue  when 
that  boy  was  brought  home  with  the  setting  of  the 
second  sun  thereafter,  his  head  bandaged  and  his 
shoulder  sore  and  his  hurts  severe,  and  yet  with  the 
record  that  despite  it  all,  he  had  fought  his  troop 
like  a  veteran — "like  a  Farrar."  Fentou  handed 
him  over  to  his  mother,  after  their  long  ride  in  the 
ambulance  sent  out  to  meet  them,  and  went  on  by  first 
train  to  comply  with  his  orders,  and  Marjorie  took 
her  boy  to  her  rejoicing  arms,  forgetful  for  the  mo 
ment  of  Fentou,  of  Kitty,  of  all  else  in  the  world. 

And  then,  in  a  few  days  more,  came  the  major 
back  with  his  squadron  and  his  recaptured  village, 


284  FORT    FRAYNE. 

and  more  than  half  the  recalcitrant  braves,  tired  of 
their  mid-winter  spree  and  quite  ready  to  be  taken  back 
to  Abraham's  bosom,  to  be  forgiven,  and,  what  was 
more  to  the  purpose,  feasted.  And  by  this  time 
Will  was  well  enough  to  be  out  again  and  to  ride  to 
meet  them,  and  to  welcome  Wayne  with  especial  en 
thusiasm,  for  the  major  had  reinforced  his  ragged 
line  just  in  time  to  save  him  from  another  rush  such 
as  had  burst  it  and  downed  him  on  the  slopes  a  mile 
to  the  east,  and  Kitty,  no  longer  imperious  sweet 
heart,  but  devoted  love,  had  found  it  high  time  to 
take  no  further  chances,  and  so  had  named  the  day,  and 
had  amazed  the  dreamy  major  by  her  declaration 
that  she  would  be  married  only  where  Uncle  Fenton 
could  give  her  away  and  Major  Wayne,  who  had 
"  saved  her  Willy,"  could  be  best  man.  There  was 
one  blissful  episode,  therefore,  in  that  sad  and  sombre 
winter. 

But  so  far  as  our  friends  the  Farrars  were  con 
cerned,  it  was  about  the  only  one.  Not  until  the 
day  after  honest  Fenton  had  gone  did  it  occur  to 
Mrs.  Farrar  to  inquire  how  and  why  it  was  the 
colonel  left  the  command  and  spent  that  night  at 
Allison's  ranch,  and  then  as  the  story  was  unfolded 
by  Will,  her  sympathy  and  indignation  knew  no 
bounds.  Even  at  such  a  time,  when  wounded  and 
maligned,  when  robbed  of  his  command  at  the  very 
moment  when  it  was  dearest  to  him  and  when  he 
must  have  been  burning  with  eagerness  to  face  and 
confound  his  accusers,  Fenton  had  turned  back  to 
learn  the  truth  about  the  fight  at  Elk  Canon  and  wire  to 


FORT    FRAYNE.  285 

her— to  her— the  glad  news  of  her  boy's  safety,  the 
proud  news  of  his  spirited  and  soldierly  behavior. 
If  Fenton  could  have  seen  her  emotion  when  from 
Wayne  and  Will  she  learned  the  whole  story,  he 
would  have  found  his  trials  easier  to  bear. 

He  had  gone,  however,  to  department  headquart 
ers,  and  there  his  accusers  were  missing;  not  one  re 
mained  to  face  him,  and  when  called  upon  to  sub 
stantiate  their  statements,  as  they  had  eagerly  de 
clared  their  readiness  to  do,  one  and  all,  they  had 
business  elsewhere.  The  chief  conspirators  had 
achieved  in  part,  at  least,  the  ends  for  which  they 
were  striving — a  row  with  Big  Road's  band  that 
would  enable  them  to  get  square  with  White  Wolf, 
Pretty  Bear,  and  the  other  alleged  assailants  of  Pete 
Boland,  replenish  their  stock  of  ponies  and  other  spoils 
of  Indian  war,  and  doxible  the  price  of  forage,  and 
though  the  alleged  murderers  escaped  them,  and  the 
village  in  great  part  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Twelfth,  and  Fenton  came  back  from  headquarters  a 
vindicated  man,  still  they  had  given  him  and  his  reg 
iment  far  more  trouble  than  the  regiment  had  ever 
caused  them,  so  honors  were  more  than  easy.  "We've 
larned  the  old  man  not  to  monkey  with  the  cowboy 
again. " 

There  was  a  sweet,  womanly,  grateful  note  await 
ing  the  colonel  when,  after  an  absence  of  a  fortnight, 
he  returned  to  Frayne,  but  the  Farrars  were  gone. 
The  doctor  had  said  they  could  not  too  soon  move 
Ellis,  once  she  could  be  moved  at  all,  to  southern 
California,  and  with  a  month's  leave  in  his  pocket, 


286  FORT    PRAYNE. 

thither  had  Will  escorted  them,  Kitty  going  too,  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Jack  Ormsby  came  West  once 
more  to  meet  Malcolm  Leale,  and  to  tenderly  con 
duct  him,  sightless  and  suffering,  to  New  York,  and 
Fenton  felt  that  vengeance  indeed  had  been  wrought 
by  Thorpe  and  that  the  Lord  had  been  with  the  Phil 
istines  across  the  stream,  for  the  light  had  gone  out 
of  his  life,  and  smiles  and  sunshine  seemed  to  have 
vanished  from  Fort  Frayne.  Will  came  back  in  Feb 
ruary  and  threw  himself  enthusiastically  into  his 
duties  with  his  troop,  and  Wayne  went  mooning 
night  after  night  to  the  colonel's  fireside,  and  Terry 
Rorke,  crippled  with  a  rheumatic  twinge  about  an 
old  bullet  hole,  was  limping  and  growling  about  the 
post,  and  Fenton  prayed  for  the  coming  of  spring 
and  sunshine  and  June  and  roses,  for  Kitty  had 
still  another  freak — she  would  be  married  only  from 
under  the  shadow  of  the  flag  and  Uncle  Fenton's 
roof.  With  Ellis  better,  but  still  not  well,  the  Far- 
rars  and  Kitty  had  taken  the  "Sunset  Route"  from 
Monterey  to  New  Orleans  the  end  of  March  and 
reached  Gotham  just  as  the  buds  were  opening  in  the 
park;  and  Wayne,  East  on  leave  on  some  mysterious 
mission,  called  to  welcome  them  home  and  to  say 
that  Ormsby  was  to  sail  at  once  with  Malcolm  Leale, 
who  was  to  go  to  Germany  to  consult  an  eminent 
oculist,  and  Ellis  lost  the  color  wrhich  was  fluttering 
in  her  cheeks  when  they  hove  in  sight  of  the  familiar 
landmarks  of  the  beautiful  harbor,  and  Helen 
Daunton  strove  to  conquer  her  own  disappointment 
that  she  might  comfort  the  poor  girl,  who,  since  the 


FORT    FKAYNE.  287 

tragic  night  of  her  brother's  death,  had  neither  seen 
nor  heard  from  the  lover  she  had  rebuffed  and 
wronged,  even  though  here  and  now  she  had  written, 
admitting  her  sin  against  him  and  humbly  yet  con 
fidently  asking  his  forgiveness.  That  was  Thursday 
night,  and  there  was  ample  time,  but  he  sailed  on 
Saturday  with  never  a  word. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

JUNE  had  come,  a  radiant  June,  and  all  at  Frayne 
was  joyous  anticipation,  despite  the  momentous  fact 
that  the  Platte  had  overleaped  its  bounds  and  was 
raging  like  some  mad  mountain  torrent  far  as  the  eye 
could  see.  The  flats  to  the  west  of  the  post  were  one 
broad,  muddy  lake.  The  grassy  bench  beneath  the 
bluffs  to  the  east  was  partially  torn  away.  Part  of 
Bunco  Jim's  frontier  stronghold  still  clung  to  the  op 
posite  bank,  but  some  of  it  was  distributed  in  drift 
wood  long  leagues  down  stream.  Across  the  river,  at 
a  point  half  a  mile  above  the  ruin  of  the  ferry  house, 
a  troop  of  cavalry,  caught  on  return  from  scout,  had 
pitched  its  tents  and  picketed  its  horses,  and  was 
waiting  for  the  falling  of  the  waters  to  enable  it  to 
return  to  its  station,  and  with  that  troop,  the  maddest 
man  in  all  Wyoming,  was  Lieutenant  Will  Farrar. 

Six  or  seven  weeks  previously  an  order  had  come 
to  Fenton  to  send  two  troops  to  scout  the  western 
slopes  of  the  Big  Horn  and  keep  the  peace  between 
the  settlers  and  the  Shoshones.  Time  was  \vhen  these 
latter  rarely  ventured  across  the  Big  IIoi'ii  River, 
partly  through  fear  of  the  Sioux,  who  claimed  sov 
ereignty  over  all  the  lands  east  of  the  Shoshone  pre 
serves  in  the  Wind  River  Valley,  partly  through  re 
gard  for  the  orders  of  their  loyal  old  chief,  Washakie, 
who  for  long,  long  years  of  his  life,  had  kept  faith 

288 


FORT    FBAYXE.  289 

with  the  Great  White  Father,  held  his  people  in 
check  and  suffered  the  inevitable  consequences  of 
poverty  and  neglect;  the  policy  of  the  Indian  Bureau 
being  to  load  Avith  favors  only  those  of  its  wards  who 
defy  it  and  deal  death  to  the  whites.  Settlers  seldom 
encroach  upon  the  Sioux,  those  gentry  being  abund 
antly  able  and  more  than  willing  to  take  care  of  them 
selves,  but  the  Shoshones  had  known  long  years  of 
enervating  peace,  and,  being  held  in  subjection  by 
their  chief,  became  the  natural  prey  of  the  whites, 
who  mistook  subordination  for  subservience, — as  is 
natural  to  free-born  Americans  and  as  easily  adopted 
by  fellow-citizens  of  foreign  birth — and  who  soon  be 
gan  to  encroach  on  their  own  account,  stealing  Sho- 
shone  crops  and  cattle  and  promptly  accusing  the 
army  officer,  on  duty  as  agent,  of  cattle  stealing  and 
all-round  rascality  when  he  reseized  the  captured 
stock.  Then,  while  this  badgered  official  was  de 
fending  himself  in  court,  the  Shoshones  had  to  de 
fend  themselves  in  the  field,  and  that  peripatetic 
buffer  between  the  oppressor  and  the  oppressed,  the 
corporations  and  the  cranks,  the  law  and  the  lawless 
— the  much-bedeviled  army — was  sent  out  as  usual  to 
receive  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune 
and  of  both  parties.  Finding  it  difficult  to  swindle 
the  Shoshones  so  long  as  their  new  agent— the  army 
agent — remained  in  power,  the  obvious  thing  was 
to  down  him  by  misrepresentation  at  Washington, 
and,  if  that  didn't  work,  by  deft  manipulation  of  the 
local  law.  Of  course  they  didn't  expect  to  prove  him 
guilty  of  anything,  but  there  was  no  law  against 


290  FORT    FRAYNE. 

lying,  and  they  could  compel  him  to  come  into  court 
and  prove  himself  innocent,  and  leave  his  unarmed 
wards  to  the  mercy  of  the  settler  in  the  meantime, 
and  so  it  happened  that  there  were  high  jinks  up  the 
Wind  River  Valley  and  along  those  wonderful  ranges 
in  the  wild  valleys  of  the  Gray  Bull,  the  Meeyero, 
the  Meeteetsee,  north  of  the  Owl  Creek  Mountains, 
and,  the  cavalry  having  long  since  been  withdrawn 
from  that  section,  that  was  how  the  detail  fell  on  old 
Fort  Frayne. 

"You  can  straighten  matters  out  in  a  month," 
said  the  commanding  officer  to  Major  Wayne,  who 
had  hastened  back  from  the  East  to  take  command, 
and  when  it  came  to  selecting  the  troops  to  go,  even 
though  it  lacked  less  than  two  months  to  his  wed 
ding  day,  Will  Farrar  gloried  in  the  fact  that  his 
was  one  of  them.  It  is  hard  to  conceive  of  a  lot  in 
which  a  spirited,  soldierly  fellow  of  twenty-one  could 
possibly  be  happier  than  commanding  a  troop  of  cav 
alry  on  an  expedition  through  so  glorious  a  country. 
Amory's  troop  and  Leale's  were  designated,  and,  the 
latter  captain  being  still  in  Berlin  and  the  senior 
subaltern  on  staff  duty  in  the  East,  Farrar  was  his 
own  captain  and  troop  commander,  and,  despite  the 
troubles  of  the  Christmas  season,  long  since  buried 
so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  just  about  the  happiest 
fellow  that  wore  the  army  blue. 

The  expedition  had  proved  even  longer  than  was 
planned,  but  at  last,  while  Wayne  with  Amory  and 
the  recaptured  cattle  and  rounded-up  Shoshones  went 
over  the  Owl  Creek  Mountains  to  render  account  of 


FORT    FRAYNE.  291 

his  stewardship  at  Fort  Washakie,  Will  was  told  to 
make  the  best  of  his  way  homeward  with  his  own 
command,  and,  marching  leisurely  along  in  the  radiant 
spring  mornings,  through  a  country  unmatched  for 
wild  beauty  in  all  America;  shooting,  fishing,  plung 
ing  in  mountain  streams,  sleeping  dreamlessly  in  the 
open  air  by  night,  they  reached  the  valley  of  the 
Platte  toward  mid  June.  The  blessed  landmark  of 
the  Eagle  Buttes  came  in  sight  one  peerless  morning. 
The  blue  summits  of  the  Medicine  Bow  loomed  up 
across  the  horizon  to  the  southeast.  The  flag-tipped 
bluffs  of  old  Fort  Frayue  would  greet  their  eyes  be 
fore  the  close  of  to-morrow's  march,  and  so  they  did 
— but  with  a  raging  torrent  tearing  at  their  base, 
and  this  was  Monday,  and  less  than  forty-eisrht  hours 

*    '  •/  O 

to  "Will's  wedding  day. 

Meanwhile,  there  had  been  a  partial  reunion  within 
the  walls  of  the  fort,  and  already  a  joyous  bevy  of 
army  folk  had  gathered  in  anticipation  of  the  June 
wedding  with  Kitty  Ormsby  as  the  center  of  attrac 
tion,  since  she  was  the  colonel's  niece,  and  he  was  to 
give  her  away,  and  Wayne  was  to  be  best  man,  by 
order  of  the  bride,  provided  he  didn't  get  things 
mixed  in  his  own  inimitable  way  and  turn  up  unex 
pectedly  at  some  one  else's  affair,  as  he  did  the  night 
of  the  Willett's  dinner  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  "  Billy  " 
Ray  of  the  — th,  where,  with  army  bonhomie,  a  seat 
was  squeezed  in  close  beside  that  of  the  winsome 
guest  of  the  evening,  and  where  he  was  charmingly 
welcomed  and  made  at  home  despite  the  fact,  which 
dawned  upon  him  only  with  the  champagne,  that  he 


292  FORT    FRAYNE. 

was  due  at  the  Amorys',  where  a  similar  function 
was  being  held  in  honor  of  the  Truscotts  of  the  same 
regiment,  then  on  the  march  from  Kansas  to  Montana. 
"You'll  rue  it,  Kitty,  that  ever  you  insisted  on  my 
having  Wayne  for  best  man,"  wrote  poor  Will,  with 
prophetic  but  unavailing  protest.  "  Wayne  saved 
my  Willy,"  was  the  positive  rejoinder,  and  no  one  but 
Wayne  would  do.  "All right,"  said  Will,  "  if  you 
find,  years  later,  that  there's  been  some  fatal  flaw  in 
the  proceedings,  don't  blame  me." 

But  here,  on  this  glad  June  morning,  all  sunshine 
and  serenity  aloft,  all  perturbation  at  the  post,  all 
raging  river  about  it,  it  looked  as  though  the  proceed 
ings  themselves  Avould  be  delayed,  and  that  instead 
of  a  military  wedding  in  the  post  chapel  at  high 
noon,  with  everybody  en  grande  tenue,  there  would  be 
no  wedding  at  all,  even  though  Will,  like  a  modern 
Leander,  swam  this  wild  Western  Hellespont  in 
search  of  his  bride.  Far  away  to  the  east  the  floods 
had  swept  their  battering  ram  of  logs  and  trees  and 
dashed  it  against  the  bridge  abutments  at  the  rail 
way,  and  though  the  Farrars  AVCVC  safely  here,  and 
had  been  for  several  days,  Kitty's  train,  that  which 
bore  her  and  Jack  on  their  westward  way,  had  been 
brought  up  standing  long  miles  toward  Cheyenne, 
and  there  was  no  telling  when  the  passengers  could 
be  transferred  to  the  waiting  cars  upon  the  hither 
shore.  And  so,  each  believing  the  other  in  waiting 
at  the  post,  bride  and  groom  elect  woke  to  their  wed 
ding  morn  to  rail  at  fate.  It  would  have  been  some 
comfort  could  they  have  known  that,  though  miles 


FOKT    FRAYJSTE.  293 

apart,  they  were  at  least  on  the  same  side  of  the 
stream  that  swept  between  them  and  the  altar  of 
their  hopes. 

And  there  was  deep  anxiety  under  the  roof  where 
once  again  the  Farrars  were  installed,  for  the 
mother  was  possessed  with  the  fear  that  Willy  would 
be  mad  enough  to  try  to  swim  the  stream,  and  though 
Fenton  had  had  his  signal  men  out  forbidding  any 
such  attempt,  no  acknowledgment  had  been  received 
to  the  effect  that  the  repeated  message  was  under 
stood.  An  Indian,  who  thought  he  could  cross  at 
Casper  Rocks,  several  miles  up  stream,  was  swept 
from  his  pony  and  only  saved  by  the  strength  of  his 
horsehair  lariat.  A  scow  that  was  launched  at  the 
bend  was  battered  to  flinders,  and  bottle  after  bottle, 
corked  and  slung  long  yards  out  into  the  steam, 
went  bobbing  derisively  away,  carrying  its  penciled 
contents  with  them.  Arrows,  with  silken  strings 
attached,  dropped  helplessly  in  the  stream.  Bullets, 
similarly  tethered,  snapped  their  frail  attachments 
and  whistled  over  the  opposite  shore  and  told  no  tale 
other  than  that  of  anxiety.  Every  fieldglass  at  the 
post,  when  brought  to  bear,  revealed  Farrar  at  nine 
o'clock  of  his  bridal  morning  striding  and  probably 
swearing  up  and  down  the  bank,  tugging  at  his  tiny 
moustache  and  sprouting  beard,  and  possibly  threaten 
ing  self-destruction.  It  was  a  thrilling  scene. 

Then  many  other  people  seemed  burdened  with 
troubles  of  their  own.  Ellis  had  never  recovered 
either  strength  or  spirits  since  the  events  of  that 
Christmas  week,  and  her  lovely  face  was  thin,  and 


294  FOKT    FRAYNE. 

the  bright,  brave  eyes  of  old  were  shadowed  with  a 
pathetic  sorrow,  but,  though  this  shadow  had  come 
into  her  life,  another  one,  much  harder  to  bear,  had 
been  swept  aside.  Ever  since  her  lover's  words  had 
revealed  to  Ellis  that  ,it  was  her  own  brother  to  save 
whom  Malcolm  Leale  had  periled  life  and  lost  his 
sight,  the  girl's  eyes  seemed  gradually  to  open  to  the 
utter  cruelty  of  her  suspicions,  the  injustice  of  her 
treatment  of  Helen  Daunton,  the  woman  whose  life 
that  very  brother  had  well-nigh  wrecked  forever.  In 
the  long  hours  of  her  convalescence  she  had  turned 
to  Helen  in  humility  that  was  sweet  to  see,  and  now 
the  love  and  trust  between  them  was  something  in 
expressible.  But  there  was  something  even  Helen 
could  neither  explain  nor  justify,  and  that  was  Jack 
Ormsby's  conduct  since  her  convalescence. 

True,  Ellis  had  told  him  in  their  last  interview 
that  all  was  at  an  end  between  them,  that  he  had 
forfeited  trust,  faith,  and  even  respect,  and  placed 
a  barrier  between  himself  and  her  forever.  She  had 
refused  him  further  audience,  and  her  last  words  to  him 
had  been  full  of  scorn,  even  of  insult.  But  no  word 
of  auger  or  resentment  had  escaped  him,  and  surely 
no  man  who  deeply  loved  would  harbor  anger  now. 
Sobbing  her  heart  out,  the  girl  had  thrown  herself 
on  Helen's  breast  just  before  their  return  to  Frayne, 
and  told  a  part  of  her  story  until  then  concealed, 
how,  in  their  last  interview,  Ormsby  had  gently 
said  that  he  would  vex  her  no  more  with  his  plead 
ings,  but  if  a  time  should  ever  come  when  her  eyes 
were  opened  and  when  she  could  believe  him  honest 


FORT    FRAYNE.  295 

and  worthy,  he  would  come  at  her  call,  and  she  had 
humbled  herself  and  called,  but  all  in  vain.  To 
Helen  she  had  told  the  whole  story  of  that  humble 
letter,  and  that  neither  by  word  or  sign  had  he 
acknowledged  it. 

But  Helen  saw  a  ray  of  hope.  The  little  note  had 
been  intrusted  to  Wayne  late  that  Thursday  night, 
and  he  had  promised  to  deliver  it  early  Friday 
morning,  and  all  that  day  had  Ellis  waited  eagerly, 
and  nightfall  came  without  the  looked-for  visit. 
Wayne  came  on  Saturday  to  convey  some  conven 
tional  words  of  farewell  from  both  officers — "so 
surprised  to  hear  of  the  sudden  return  from  Cali 
fornia,  so  sorry  not  to  have  seen  them,  but  time  was 
very  short, "  and — would  she  never  hear  the  last  of 
the  Seventh? — Ormsby  had  had  to  attend  the  review 
at  the  armory  Friday  night,  and  then  there  was  just 
time  to  rejoin  Leale  and  get  him  aboard,  for  their 
good  ship  sailed  at  7  A.  M.  to  catch  the  early  tide 
at  Sandy  Hook.  Falteringly  Ellis  had  asked  if 
he  were  sure  he  had  given  Ormsby  her  note — if — if 
Mr.  Ormsby  had  read  it.  Wayne  was  quite  posi 
tive. 

But  Helen  would  not  believe,  and,  with  unabated 
hope,  she  awaited  Wayne's  return  to  the  post.  They 
arrived  a  week  before  him,  for  on  leaving  his  charge 
at  Washakie  the  previous  month  he  had  hurried 
straight  to  AVashington  in  response  to  a  summons 
from  the  Secretary  of  War,  had  made  his  report, 
and  then  gone  to  Xew  York.  Not  until  the  Monday 
before  the  wedding  did  he  reappear,  and  then  only 


296  FORT    FKAYNE. 

by  determined  effort  did  Helen  corner  him  long 
enough  for  cross-examination.  "Certainly,"  said 
Wayne.  "I  remember  the  note  perfectly  well.  I 
put  it  with  one  from  the  club  that  I  found  there  and 
handed  both  to  him  together.  He'll  be  here  to  the 
wedding.  He's  coming  right  along  with  Kitty.  I'll 
ask  him  again,  if  you  like." 

"Don't  dare  ever  mention  it,  major;  or  that  I 
asked  any  questions  concerning  it.  How  long  has 
he  been  back?  "  asked  Helen,  with  vivid  interest, 
another  question  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

"Not  a  week.  Just  back,  you  know.  I  only 
saw  him  a  minute.  I  was  just  starting  for  the  train. 
He  looked  astonishingly  well,  and — you  know — I 
forgot  to  ask  was  Leale  better.  He  was  full  of  his 
wedding  preparations." 

"  Her  wedding  preparations — Kitty's — you  mean, 
do  you  not,  major?  " 

"No,  his;  I  give  you  my  word.  He  said  so,  you 
know.  He  told  me  the  lady's  name — part  of  it,  at 
least — Effie  something.  I  can't  recall  it  just  now. 
I  Fe'll  tell  you.  Oh,  it  was  all  on  that  account,  you 
know,  Kitty  couldn't  start  sooner.  She  had  to  wait 
for  him." 

Helen  was  astounded.  It  was  news  she  declared 
she  would  never  believe,  and  yet  she  remembered 
having  heard  mention  of  an  attractive  cousin,  a  Miss 
Effie  Leale,  and  might  it  not  have  been  possible  that, 
in  his  wanderings — with  the  blinded  invalid — with 
his  own  sore  heart,  Jack  Ormsby  had  met  and  found 
consolation  in  this  fair  relative  of  his  stricken  friend 


FORT   FRAYNE.  2  9  7 

—that  she  in  turn  had  quickly  learned  to  admire  the 
manly  fellow  who  was  so  devoted  to  their  particular 
hero?  At  all  events,  it  was  something  not  to  be 
mentioned  to  Ellis,  said  Helen. 

But  what  was  the  use!  Wayne  told  it  to  Lucretia; 
Lucretia  to  a  dozen  during  the  day.  It  was  all  over 
the  post  before  night,  and  despite  Helen's  effort, 
Ellis  heard  it  among  the  first.  One  more  among  the 
many  mishaps  with  which  to  usher  in  Will's  wedding 
day! 

At  ten  that  beautiful  June  morning  there  was 
something  more  than  pathetic  about  poor  Lucretia's 
sorrows.  While  Fenton,  Mrs.  Farrar,  Helen,  silent, 
brave-faced  Ellis,  and  a  dozen  sympathetic  souls 
from  all  over  the  post  were  gathered  on  the  north 
piazza  overhanging  the  bluff  and  the  roaring  waters 
of  the  Platte,  signaling  to  Will  and  watching  eagerly 
his  vigorous  movements,  the  lady  of  the  house  re 
mained  within  doors,  wept  unceasingly,  and  refused 
to  be  comforted. 

"It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  the  condition  that 
chicken  salad  will  be  in,"  she  moaned.  "It  is  pre 
posterous  to  talk  to  me  of  patience!  I've  said  all  along 
it  was  to  be  an  unlucky  day,  because  you  all  know 
perfectly  well — at  least  if  you  don't,  you  ought  to — 
that  it  is  just  thirteen  years  ago  this  day  we  were  all 
gathered  at  Fort  Crook  for  the  funeral  of  Captain 
Crocus,  which  was  to  take  place  the  moment  the 
ambulance  got  in  from  the  front,  and  the  band  was 
all  ready — and  the  escort  and  the  hearse— and — and 
after  all  the  whole  thing  had  to  be  abandoned,  for 


298  FORT   FRAYtfE. 

when  the  ambulance  got  in  there  were  no  remains  at 
all — at  least  there  were,  but  they  weren't  ready  for 
burial  because  they'd  revived  and  were  sitting  up 
and  saying  shocking  things.  Why,  I  think  a  wed 
ding  without  a  bride  is  ten  times  worse  than  a  funeral 
without  a — without  a — " 

But  here,  it  must  be  admitted,  the  burst  of  laugh 
ter  in  which  Rorke  indulged  was  too  much  for  her 
determination  to  weep  and,  blazing  through  her 
tears,  the  maiden  demanded  explanation  of  his  un 
seemly  conduct.  Rorke  was  a  permanent  member 
of  the  colonel's  establishment  now,  but  he  could  not 
risk  Miss  Lucretia's  displeasure,  and  was  wise  and 
knew  his  danger,  and  fled  to  the  kitchen,  there  to 
tell  cook  and  Chinaman  the  lady's  plaintive  mono 
logue,  while  Amory,  equally  conscienceless,  ran  out 
to  convulse  with  it  the  party  on  the  porch.  And 
then,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  laughter,  came  delirious 
news  from  the  ' '  best  man  "  sent  to  meet  the  bride 
and  Ormsby  at  the  Station  and  break  to  them  the 
direful  news  that  "the  bridegroom  was  late."  The 
train  had  passed  Fetterman  Bend.  The  bride  would 
be  there  in  twenty  minutes. 

And  she  came — and  what  a  scene  there  was!  And 
how  she  was  hugged  and  kissed  and  mauled  and 
pulled  about,  and  how  she  strove  to  tell  of  her  tribu 
lations  and  could  not  for  the  volume  of  welcome, 
exclamation  and  interrogation;  and,  not  until  trunks, 
boxes,  and  what  alls  had  been  whisked  away  to  her 
room  aloft  and  somebody  said  it  was  almost  eleven 


FORT    FRAYNE.  999 

o'clock,  did  she  find  breath  and  opportunity  to  say, 
"Gracious  Heavens!  Arid  I'm  to  be  married  at  noon! 

And    not  a  thing  done   yet!     Why!    Wh where's 

Willy?" 

Aghast,  they  looked  at  one  another.  Was  not  all 
this  to  have  been  explained  by  Wayne?  Hadn't 
Wayne  told  her?  Told  her?  Told  her  what?  All 
Major  Wayne  said  to  her  about  Willy  \vasthathe 
was  almost  frantic  with  impatience  to  meet  her,  but 
he'd — he'd  have  to  take  his  bath  first.  What  did  he 
mean  by  sending  such  riduculous  stuff?  What  were 
they  all  laughing— crying  at?  Isn't  here?  Couldn't 
cross?  Can't  he  swim?  Why!  the  man  she  thought 

^  O 

he  was  would  swim  Niagara  rather  than  miss  his 
wedding  day!  And  then — oh  day  of  days! — perhaps 
her  words  annihilated  space  and  reached  the  ears  of 
the  maddened  lover,  for  at  the  very  moment  came 
an  Irish  howl  from  the  porch  without.  "Oh,  fur 
the  luv  of  God!  shtop  him!  Don't  let  him!  Oh, 
Mother  of  Moses,  it's  drownin'  he  is!  "  And  then, 
all  shrieks  and  terror,  did  most  of  the  party  scatter 
for  the  balconies,  while,  all  shrieks  and  terror  and 
protestations  that  she'd  never  speak  to  him  again  if 
he  dared  to,  Kitty  collapsed  upon  a  sofa. 

Was  ever  there  a  wedding  day  to  match  it? 
Soaked  to  the  skin,  dripping  but  triumphant,  Will 
Farrar  rode  out  of  the  floods  and  up  the  heights, 
amid  the  frenzied  acclamations  of  the  garrison,  and, 
throwing  himself  from  saddle  at  the  colonel's  gate 
demanded  to  see — if  not  to  squeeze — his  bride.  There 


300  FORT   FRAYNE. 

were  they  gathered — the  elite  of  Fort  Frayne — some 
in  wedding  garb,  some  in  traveling  dress,  and  what  a 
cheer  went  up  as  he  sprang  to  the  porch,  and  his 
mother  wanted  to  clasp  him,  dripping  though  he 
was,  to  her  heart  of  hearts.  Not  so  Kitty.  "Don't 
you  come  near  me,  you  dreadful  thing!"  she  cried. 
And,  laughing  and  protesting,  he  was  led  away,  to 
be  caparisoned  for  the  ceremony.  Lucretia's  spirits 
were  once  more  in  ebullition.  Wayne  was  back;  the 
remains  had  come,  so  why  longer  delay — proceed 
ings? 

They  were  not.  There  was  as  blithe  and  bright 
and  joyous  a  soldier  wedding  that  perfect  noon  day 
as  ever  was  seen  within  the  Avails  of  old  Fort  Frayne, 
and  Kitty  made  a  bewitching  bride  and  there  was  a 
wonderful  unloading  of  sorrow  from  heart  after 
heart  onto  the  shoulders  of  one  luckless,  sorely-tried 
man — Major  Percival  Wayne.  Oh,  Mad  Anthony! 
but  here  Avas  one  of  thy  descendcnts  ten  times  worthy 
thy  name!  In  that  one  day  there  came  crushing  in 
upon  him  the  consequences  of  a  generation  of  mis 
doing. 

It  was  enough  that  he  should  have  failed  to  ex 
plain  matters  to  Kitty.  It  was  worse  when  he  took 
the  first  opportunity  to  explain  matters  to  Jack. 
His  way  of  doing  it  was  somewhat  as  follows,  and 
they  were  dressing  for  the  ceremony,  and  Jack — 
gorgeous  in  his  full-dress  uniform  as  a  lieutenant  of 
the  Seventh,  was  sick  at  heart  over  the  cold,  con 
strained  greeting  accorded  him  by  Ellis. 

"Why,   of  course,  old  fellow,  you  didn't  impose 


FOKT    FEAYNE.  301 

silence  on  me,  and  I  s'pose  I  let  out  about  your  en 
gagement — " 

"My  what?"  says  poor  Jack,  aghast. 

"Your  engagement.  You  said,  even  to  attend 
Kitty's  wedding,  you  couldn't  get  away  until  yours 
was  fulfilled — on  the  10th,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Certainly — our  annual  inspection.  No  man  in 
the  Seventh  would  miss  that  for  love  or  money." 

"  But,  Jack,  don't  you  know?  I'm  sure  you  told 
me  a  lady  was  in  the  case.  You  told  me  her  name, 
and — indeed,  you  did — that  Effie  and  you  were  to  be 
tied—" 

"You  transcendental  idiot!  I  told  you  "F"  and 
"I" — Company  "F  "  and  Company  "I" — were  tied 
for  place,  and  neither  dare  lose  a  point. " 

And  then,  instead  of  smashing  Wayne,  as  Avas  his 
first  thought,  Jack  fled  down  stairs  in  search  of  Ellis 
and  found  her,  and  told  her  Wayne's  story,  and  then 
his  own,  breathlessly,  eagerly,  imploringly,  and 
there  were  blushes  and  tears  and  soft  laughter,  and 
soft,  happy  murmurs,  and — and  how  horribly  those 
big  epaulets  get  in  the  way,  and  service  medals  and 
sautache  braid  scratch  at  such  times!  And  at  last 
did  Jack  uplift  his  voice  again  to  say:  "Ellis,  I'm  in 
heaven!"  and  then  did  she  uplift  a  blushing,  tear- 
stained,  kiss-rumpled  face  to  archly  inquire,  "A 
Seventh  heaven,  Jack?  "  and  then  did  old  Fenton  come 
blustering  in  to  take  a  veteran's  share  in  the  engage 
ment.  It  was  known  all  over  the  house  before  the 
wedding  party  started. 

Then  came  the  next  scene  in  Mad  Anthony's  play. 


302  FORT    FRAYNE. 

Amory  and  the  chaplain  declare  to  this  day  that 
when  the  party  was  duly  marshaled  at  the  altar  the 
major  clicked  his  heels  together  and  raised  his  hand 
in  salute,  and  began:  "Sir,  the  parade  is —  '  when 
Ormsby  caught  the  hand  and  brought  it  down,  but 
when  it  came  to  the  ring  there  was  consternation. 
To  the  horror  of  the  groom,  the  despair  of  the  bride, 
but  to  the  marked  and  tremulous  emotion  of  Aunt 
Lucretia,  the  circlet  produced  for  the  occasion  by  the 
dazed  best  man  was  an  old-fashioned,  but  beautiful, 
cluster  of  flashing  gems.  Only  by  a  miracle  did  it 
happen  that  the  other  ring  was  in  his  possession. 
How  the  mixture  occurred  there  was  no  time  to  tell, 
until  later,  when  all  were  gathered,  for  there  were 
two  whose  fortunes  we  have  followed  through  these 
long,  long  chapters,  who  were  absent  from  the  cere 
mony — who,  in  fact,  were  having  one  of  their  own, 
and  to  these  two,  while  the  band  without  is  softly 
playing  in  front  of  the  chapel,  and  in  eager  hundreds 
the  men  are  gathered  to  cheer  the  bride  and  groom  on 
their  reappearance,  let  us  turn — and  listen. 

"No,  dear  Mrs.  Farrar,"  were  Helen  Daun ton's 
words  as  the  eager  guests  were  pouring  forth  to  the 
wedding.  "They  are  bringing  him  here — even  now 
— so  that  he  may  welcome  Will  and  Kitty  on  their 
return  from  the  wedding  he  cannot  see." 

And  no  sooner  was  the  party  fairly  at  the  chapel 
than  there  drove  to  the  colonel's  door  the  old  Concord, 
and  two  soldiers  assisted  to  alight  and  led  to  the 
doorway  the  soldierly  form  of  Captain  Leale — his  eyes 
still  covered  by  the  deep  green  shade.  It  was  Helen 


FORT    FRAYNE.  303 

Daunton's  hand  that  guided  him  into  the  lately 
crowded  parlor,  and  he  knew  the  touch  and  thrilled 
with  the  joy  of  it. 

"Helen!"  he  cried.  "They  told  me  all  were 
gone.  What  a  blessed  welcome!  I've  been  so  long 
in  exile!  With  your  voice,  the  old  home  feeling  I've 
been  groping  for  conies  to  me  through  the  dark." 

"Then — it  is  still  dark  with  you?  "  she  faltered. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  The  band  had  just 
ceased  the  joyous  mai-ch  with  which  it  had  "trooped" 
the  wedding  party  into  the  chapel,  and  then,  as 
though  in  accompaniment  to  the  ceremony  just  begin 
ning  and  to  the  sweet  romance  already  throbbing 
here,  the  exquisite  strains  of  the  "  Traeumerei  "  softly 
thrilled  upon  the  fragrant  air. 

"Helen!  "  he  spoke,  his  deep  voice  trembling  as 
did  the  hand  that  still  clung  to  hers.  "  You  know 
that  for  me  the  lights  went  out  before  ever  that 
powder-flash  crossed  my  eyes. "  She  strove,  hardly 
knowing  why,  to  release  her  hand.  "Xo,  dear,"  he 
went  on  gently.  "  Don't  be  afraid  I  have  come  back 
to  vex  you  with  my  sorrows;  but  listen,  they  will  all 
be  here  in  a  moment.  I  went  away  hoping  to  teach 
my  heart  a  friendship  for  you  that  should  give  me 
the  right  to  come  again  and  serve  you  as  your  friend. 
When  I  found  that  it  was  almost  sure  that  I  should 
walk  in  darkness  all  my  life,  I  said:  '  Now  at  least  I 
can  accept  the  blessing  of  her  friendship— even  as 
she  offered  it  to  me. '  A  man  maimed  and  set  apart 
from  his  fellows  can  learn  thankfulness  for  a  great 
good,  though  it  is  not  his  heart's  desire."  And  here 


304  FOKT   PBAYNB. 

her  graceful  head  was  bowed  and  silently  her  tears 
came  gushing  forth.  "  But  time  has  taught  me  the 
falsity  of  that,"  he  went  on,  firmly  now.  "You 
shall  never  misunderstand  me.  Even  in  the  dark  my 
pulse-beat  gave  the  lie  to  friendship.  I  loved  you! 
I  love  you,  and  so — have  come  to  say  a  long  good-by. 
I've  made  my  fight  to  be  your  friend — and  failed. 
At  least  I  have  been  a  soldier.  I  will  not  be  a 
coward. " 

She  could  control  herself  no  longer.  Though  she 
had  freed  her  hands,  she  seemed  involuntarily 
stretching  them  forth.  Then,  leaning  upon  the  table 
for  support,  one  hand  found  the  glove  that  he  had 
removed  and  laid  there.  He  had  withdrawn  a  pace 
and  lifted  his  head  as  though  the  blighted  eyes  were 
striving  to  peer  from  under  their  shade  for  one  look 
at  the  face  they  had  gazed  upon  in  such  passionate 
farewell  so  many  months  before.  The  sti'ains  of  the 
"  Traeumerei"  were  still  thrilling  softly  through  the 
open  casements,  and,  overcome.with  emotion,  tender 
ness,  and  passion,  Helen  bent  and  laid  her  soft  lips 
in  fervent  pressure  on  the  senseless  glove. 

Then  the  room  rang  with  a  sudden,  startling  joy 
ous  cry.  The  shade  went  whizzing  into  space,  and 
the  next  instant  Leale  had  sprung  to  and  seized  her 
in  his  arms. 

"Helen,  darling — not  that!  Don't  waste  those 
kisses,"  and  she  sank  sobbing  in  his  arms  just  as, 
grand,  joyous,  triumphant,  the  strains  of  the  wed 
ding  march  burst  forth,  re-echoing  among  the  walls 
of  Fort  Frayne. 


FORT    FRAYXE.  305 

Rorke  was  the  first  man  to  come  tearing  in  to 
announce  the  return  of  the  wedding  party  and  the 
guests,  but  Fenton  was  close  on  his  heels  "  on  hos 
pitable  cares  intent,"  and  exploding  over  Wayne's 
performances.  There  was  no  time  for  a  formal 
reception.  "  Proceedings  "  had  been  delayed  well- 
nigh  an  hour  as  it  was,  and  the  east-bound  train  was 
reported  unaccountably  on  time.  Bride  and  bride 
groom,  bridesmaids,  ushers,  bachelors  and  bene 
dicks,  maids  and  matrons,  Fort  Frayne  seemed  surg 
ing  tumultuously  up  the  Colonel's  step,  surrounding 
and  bedeviling  poor  Wayne  to  the  verge  of  distrac 
tion,  lie  laid  the  blame  on  his  spring  overcoat,  a 
venerable  garment  of  the  fashion  of  twenty  years 
agone,  but  that  he  had  so  seldom  worn  as  to  cause 
it  to  seem  to  him  ever  new  and  available,  and  for 
this  garment  he  darted  into  the  adjoining  quarters 
while  the  laughing  guests  came  tripping  up  the  steps 
in  the  wake  of  the  bride,  who,  totally  ignoring  Helen 
and  Leale  now,  who  were  gazing  into  each  other's 
eyes  in  the  deep  bow  window,  rushed  at  her  uncle 
with  characteristic  and  explosive  abuse. 

"I'll  never  be  married  at  Fort  Frayne  again  as  long 
as  I  live!  What  on  earth  did  Major — "but  she 
could  go  no  further,  for  the  shout  of  laughter  that 
greeted  her  sally,  and  the  exclamations  which  resulted 
from  the  discovery  of  Leale  and  Helen,  silenced  her 
completely.  And  then  the  bride  was  rushed  away  to 
doff  her  finery  and  reappear  in  traveling  garb,  and 
then  Will  was  hustled  to  his  quarters  to  change  his 
full-dress  uniform  for  the  conventional  garb  of  civil 


306  FORT    FRAYNE. 

life,  just  as  Wayne  came  in,  dazed,  half-demented, 
overcoat  in  one  hand  and  a  package  in  the  other,  that 
he  now  half-dreamily  held  forth  to  Ormsby,  who 
took  it,  as  wonderingly  opened,  and  began  slowly 
counting  over  a  number  of  "greenbacks,"  sole  con 
tents  of  the  wrapper,  but  he  dropped  them  as  of  lit 
tle  consequence,  when  the  bewildered  major  pro 
duced  a  moment  later  another — a  little  note  from 
the  depths  of  an  inner  pocket.  They  were  all 
crowding  around  him  now,  but  at  sight  of  this  mis 
sive  Ellis  made  a  spring  and  captured  it,  only  just  in 
time,  and  was  seized  in  turn  by  Ormsby,  who  pleaded 
for  possession  of  what  was  plainly  addressed  to  him, 
and  then  came  renewed  uproar,  for  Will  reappeared 
in  uniform  trousers  and  unfastened  blouse,  and  a 
towering  rage. 

"  Of  all  things  that  could  have  happened -to  a  man, 
think  of  this,"  he  cried.  "Major  Wayne,  didn't 
you  promise  me  from  the  field  to  send  that  dispatch 
to  Ilatfield  the  moment  you  got  to  the  post?  " 

"I  did,  and  I  pledge  my  solemn  word  that  I  kept 
it.  I  sent  it  the  very  first  post  I  struck." 

"You  did,  for  a  fact,  you  moonstruck — Oh,  but 
just  listen,  all  of  you!  Instead  of  my  traveling 
suit  here's  what  I  find — a  letter  from  Hatfield,  for 
warded  from  Fort  Washakie.  '  Dear  Sir:  In  accord 
ance  with  your  telegraphic  instructions,  we  have  this 
day  forwarded  to  you  a  cutaway  tweed  traveling  suit 
by  American  Express,  and  trust  the  same  is,'  etc., 
'also  statement  of — um,  never  mind  that — 'We 
are' — now,  mark  this,  all  of  you,  good  people — '  we 


FORT    FRAYXE  307 

are  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  understand  your  sudden 
change  of  address,  but  are  compelled  to  act  on  your 
telegram,  a  copy  of  which  is  inclosed.  "Fort 
Washakie,  May  25.  Have  tweed  cutaway  traveling 
suit  here  by  13th  prox.  without  fail.  W.  Farrar."  ' 
Fort  Washakie!  C4racious  powers!  Think  of  my 
traveling  suit  at  Washakie  and  I  here  and  the  train 
coming!  " 

"  But  Willy,  dear,"  said  his  mother,  soothingly, 
"  surely  you  can  wear  for  just  a  day  or  two  last  year's 
suit." 

'•That?  Now?  Why,  heavens  ablaze!  Rorke 
couldn't  squeeze  me  into  it  with  a  shoehorn.  I'll 
have  to  travel  in  my  pajamas.  Oh,  couldn't  I  murder 
you,  Major  Percival  Wayne!  " 

Poor  Wayne's  cup  was  indeed  full  to  overflowing. 
Martin  and  some  of  the  voungsters  lugged  Will  off 

*  oo 

to  squeeze  him  into  his  last  year's  garments,  made 
on  cadet  measure,  and  then  down  came  Kitty,  the 
bonniest  of  brides,  in  the  daintiest  and  most  coquet 
tish  of  costumes,  and  while  Rorke  and  his  satellites 
were  passing  the  champagne,  and  everybody — no, 
almost  everybody — was  crowding  about  the  bride, 
there  stood  poor  Wayne  still  diving  into  those  long 
forgotten  placer  mines  of  his  pockets  and  fetching 
up  bills  and  billets  and  odds  and  ends,  while  Lucretia 
tremulously,  and  Fenton,  Farwell  and  Amory  de 
lightedly,  watched  him,  and  then  came  a  new  excite 
ment.  Enter  Will,  squeezed  at  last  into  the  light 
gray  tweeds  he  had  so  complacently  donned  a  year 
before,  and  that  now  fitted  him  like  the  skin  of  a 


308  "POET    FKATNE. 

sausage.  A  sudden  move  of  one  arm  carried  away 
the  breast  button. 

''It's  no  use! "  he  cried,  "  I'm  worse  off  than  Peg- 
goty.  Every  jump's  a  button! "  and  then  Kitty 
caught  sight  of  him,  and  then  there  came  a  scene. 

"  What's  that?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  That  isn't  the 
man  I  married!  I  won't  stir  a  step  with  him  in  those 
things." 

"But  I  haven't  any  other,"  pleaded  Will,  in  de 
spair. 

"Who  wants  you  to  wear  such  things?"  she  fairly 
screamed,  in  almost  hysterical  laughter.  "I  married 
a  soldier.  Your  uniform,  sir,  your  best  blouse  and 
trousers  and  forage  cap,  and  don't  you  dare  wear 
cits  till  I  tell  you." 

And,  as  it  was  manifest  that  he  couldn't  wear  those 
now  encasing  him,  the  groom  a  third  time  hastened 
away  to  the  upper  regions,  and,  while  dozens  clus 
tered  as  before  about  Kittie,  an  absorbed  group  still 
hung  upon  the  movements  of  the  major.  The  light, 
as  of  other  days,  was  dawning  on  his  face.  He  was 
searching  still,  and  at  last  he  found  and  drew  forth 
a  tiny  box,  at  sight  of  which  Lucretia's  maiden  heart 
fluttered  almost  out  of  her  throat. 

"And  now  what  have  you  unearthed,  old  Rip  Van 
Winkle?  "  boomed  Fenton.  "  A  ring,  by  all  that's 
gorgeous — a  ring,  and  a  beauty,  and  an  inscription 
on  it.  P.  W.  to  L.  F.,  1874.  Who's  P.  W?  Who's 
— but  a  glance  at  his  sister's  tiansfigured  face  as  she 
tottered  there  at  his  side  warned  the  old  warrior  to 
desist. 


FORT    FRAYNE.  309 

W  '  me  was  panting  with  excitement.  "I  know," 
he  cri  d.  "Of  course  it  wasn't  my  class  ring;  it  was 
this.  [  got  it  for — "  and  here  he  turned  and  drew  her 
to  his  rm,  and  the  others  considerately  moved  away, 
as  at  last  that  ring  was  fitted  to  the  finger  that  had 
been  waiting  for  it  twenty  long  years. 

Five  minutes  more,  and  with  Rorke  leading  off  in 
the  cheers,  with  music  and  sunshine,  mirth  and  glad 
ness,  smiles  and  tears,  and  prayers  and  blessings, 
the  young  couple  were  whirled  away  to  the  station, 
bound  for  the  bliss  of  the  honeymoon. 

But  what  made  that  wedding  day  so  remarkable 
was  that  it  seemed  to  lead  to  so  many  more.  There 
came  a  letter  from  Martin  to  Jack  Ormsby  only  the 
other  day.  The  latter,  being  a  New  York  guards 
man,  was  sweltering  in  his  tent  at  Peekskill,  while 
Mrs.  Jack  consoled  herself  by  a  brief  visit  to  the 
Leales  at  West  Point.  The  former,  being  a  West 
Pointer,  fell  back  naturally  into  the  vernacular  of 
his  cadet  days  and  this  was  somewhat  as  he  wrote: 
"  Your  blessed  brother-in-law  continues  to  be  the  joy 
of  the  Twelfth,  and  the  dovecote  is  every  whit  as 
hospitable  as  Amory's.  But  of  course  Will  and  Mrs. 
Will  haven't  outlived  their  salad  days,  and  their  tiffs 
and  make-ups  are  too  funny  for  anything.  Will  is 
just  as  true  a  soldier  as  ever,  but  we  always  know 
when  the  '  wind's  in  the  east'  at  the  cote  by  his  be 
coming  even  more  aggressively,  austerely,  self-deny, 
ingly  military.  Just  now  all  is  bliss,  for  dear  Lady 
Farrar,  '  Queen  Mother,'  as  we  learned  to  call  her 
from  your  sweet  wife — my  salutations  to  her  lady- 


310  FORT    FKAYNE. 

ship — is,  as  you  know,  in  the  third  week  of  her  first 
visit  to  'the  children,'  and  this,  Jack,  old  boy, 
brings  me  to  a  prediction.  In  our  cadet  days  we 
used  to  say  'extras  breed  extras,'  and  I'm  thinking 
what  that  wedding  day  of  Will's  is  responsible  for. 
First  there's  you  and  Miss  Ellis — God  bless  'em! — 
there's  Leale  and  Mrs.  Royle  Farrar — God  reward 
'em!  There's  Old-Man-Heap-Mashed-in-the-Moon  and 
Miss  Lucretia — God  help 'em!  But,  do  you  know, we 
believe  our  bully  old  colonel  has  the  promise  now  of 
being  made  at  last  just  the  happiest  man  in  old  Fort 
Frayne." 


THE  END. 


NEELY'S 

INTERNATIONAL  LIBRARY 

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FORT  FRAYNE— Capt.  Charles  King,  U.  S.  A. 

THAT  EURASIAN— Aleph  Bey. 

LOURDES— Zola. 

AT  MARKET  VALUE— Grant  Allen. 

Author  of  "  The  Duchess  of  Powysland,"  "  This 
Mortal  Coil,"  "  Blood  Royal,"  "  The  Scally 
wag,"  etc. 

RACHEL  DENE— Robert  Buchanan. 
Author  of  "  The  Shadow  of  the  Sword,"  "  God 

and  the  Man,"  etc. 

A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  KING— Alien. 
THE  ONE  TOO  MANY— E.  Lynn   Linton. 

Author  of  "Patricia  Kimball,"  "The  Atone 
ment  of  Learn  Dundas,"  "  Through  the  Long 
Night,"  etc. 

A  MONK  OF  CRUTA— 

E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

IN  THE  DAY  OF  BATTLE— J.  A.  Steuart. 

Author  of  "  Kilgroom,"  "  Letters  to  Living 
Authors,"  etc. 

THE  GATES  OF  DAWN— Fergus  Hume. 

Author  of  "  Mystery  of  a  Hansom  Cab,"  "  Miss 
Mephistopheles,"  etc. 

IN   STRANGE    COMPANY— Guy  Boothby. 

Author   of    "  On    the  Wallaby."      Six   full-page 

illustrations  by  Stanley  L.  Wood. 
For  Sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  post 
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— .NEELY'S— — 

LIBRARY  OF  CHOICE  LITERATURE 

Bound  in  Paper  Covers,  soc. 


THE  GATES  OP  DAWN.     Fergus  Hume. 

THE  ONE  TOO  MANY.    Mrs.  E.  Lynn  Linton. 

IN  THE  OLD  CHATEAU.     Richard  Henry  Savage. 

RACHEL   DENE.     Robert  Buchanan. 

AT  MARKET  VALUE.     Grant  Allen. 

LOURDES.     EmileZola. 

THE  MINOR  CHORD.    A  Story  of  a  Prima  Donna. 

J,  Mitchell  Chappie. 

CAMPAIGNS  OF  CURIOSITY.     Elizabeth  L.  Banks. 
LIFE  AND  SERMONS  OF  DAVID  SWING. 
A  DAUGHTER  OF  JUDAS.     Richard  Henry  Savage. 
THE  FLYING  HALCYON.     Richard  Henry  Savage. 
THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

Mrs.  J.  H.  Wai  worth. 
THE  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  MR.   DERWENT. 

Thos.  Cobb. 
THE  PRINCESS  OF  ALASKA. 

Richard  Henry  Savage-. 

IN  THE  QUARTER.     Robert  W.  Chambers.      ' 
THE  ANARCHIST.     A  Story  of  To-day. 

Richard  Henry  Savage-. 
A  RENTED  HUSBAND.     Voisin. 
HAWAIIAN    LIFE;    Or,    Lazy   Letters  from    Low 

Latitudes.     Charles  Warren  Stoddard. 
LOVE  AFFAIRS  OF  A  WORLDLY  MAN. 

Maibelle  Justice. 
LOVE  LETTERS  OF  A  WORLDLY  WOMAN. 

Mrs.  W.  K.  Clifford. 
ON  A  MARGIN.     Julius  Chambers. 
FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.     Richard  Henry  Savage. 
THE  PASSING  SHOW.     Richard  Henry  Savage. 
DELILAH  OF   HARLEM.     Richard  Henry  Savage. 
THE  MASKED  VENUS.     Richard  Henry  Savage. 
PRINCE  SCHAMYL'S  WOOING. 

Richard  Henry  Savage. 
THE  LITTLE  LADY  OF  LAGUNITAS. 

Richard  Henry  Savage. 

NANCE.     A  Kentucky  Romance.     Nanci  Lewis  Greene. 
MADAM  SAPPHIRA.     Edgar  Saltus. 
ARE  MEN  GAY  DECEIVERS  ?    Mrs.  Frank  Leslie. 
MISS  MADAM.     Opie  Rerd. 
THE  FALLEN  RACE.     Austyn  Granville. 
A  YOUNG  LADY  TO    MARRY,  and  Other  French 
Stories.     Claretie,  Mairet,  Guy  de  Maupassant,  Coppeet 
Noir,  and  Gr6ville. 

THE  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER.     Edgar  Fawcett. 
SWEET  DANGER.     Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 
BITTER  FRUITS.     Madam  Caro. 
L'EVANGELISTE.     Alphonse  Daudet. 
REMARKS  BY  BILL  NYE.     Edgar  Wilson  Nye. 
HYPNOTISM.     .Julas  Claretie. 

For  Salt  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  postpaid  on 
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THE  DEEMSTER.    Hall  Caine. 

THE  WHITE  COMPANY.    A.  Conan  Doyle. 

THE  BONDMAN.     Hall  Caine 

BURKETT'S  LOCK.     M.  G.  McClellan. 

THE  CHILD  OF  THE  BALL.    DeAlarcon. 

CLAUDEA'S  ISLAND.    Esm6  Stuart. 

LYDIA.    Sydney  Christian. 

WEBSTER'S  PRONOUNCING  DICTIONARY. 

(Illustrated.)    seepages. 
AROUND  THE  WORLD   IN  EIGHTY  DAYS. 

Jules  Verne.    190  pages. 
THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  GABLES. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne.    102  pages. 

WHEN  A  MAN'S  SINGLE.     J.  M.  Barrie.    288  pages. 
A  TALE  OF  TWO  CITIES.  Charles  Dickens.  262  pages. 
BEYOND  THE  CITY.     A.  Conan  Doyle. 
THE  MAN  IN  BLACK.     Stanley  J.  Weyman. 
THE  MAHARAJAH'S  GUEST.    An  Indian  Exile. 
THE  LAST  OF  THE  VAN  SLACKS. 

Edward  S.  Van-Zile. 

A  LOVER'S  FATE  AND  A  FRIEND'S  COUNSEL. 

Anthony  Hope. 

WHAT  PEOPLE  SAID.     An  Idle  Exile.; 
MARK  TWAIN— His  Life  and  Work.  Will  M.Clemens. 
THE  MAJOR.     Major  Randolph  Gore  Hampton. 
ROSE  AND  NINETTE.     Alphonse  Daudet. 
THE  MINISTER'S  WEAK  POINT.     David  Maclure. 
AT  LOVE'S  EXTREMES.     Maurice  Thompson. 
BY  RIGHT  NOT  LAW.     R.  H.  Sherard. 
SHIPS  THAT  PASS  IN  THE  NIGHT. 

Beatrice  Harraden. 

DODO;  A  Detail  of  the  Day.     E.F.Benson. 
A  HOLIDAY  IN   BED,  and  Other  Sketches. 

J.  M.  Barrie. 
CHRISTOPHER    COLUMBUS;      HIS    LIFE    AND 

VOYAGliS.     Franc  B.  Wilkie. 

IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND  AND  THE   WAY   OUT. 

Gen.  Booth. 

UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN.     Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 
DREAM  LIFE.     Ik  Marvel  (Donald  G.  Mitchell). 
COSMOPOLIS.     Paul  Bourget. 
REVERIES   OF    A    BACHELOR. 

Ik  Marvel  (Donald  G.  MitcheH). 
WAS   IT  SUICIDE?    Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 
POEMS   AND  YARNS. 

James  Whitcomb  Riley  and  Bill  Nye. 
AN  ENGLISH  GIRL  IN  AMERICA. 

Tallulah  Matteson  Powell. 

SPARKS    FROM   THE    PEN    OF    BILL   NYE. 
PEOPLE'S   REEERENCE    BOOK- 999.999  Facts. 
MARTHA  WASHINGTON  COOK  BOOK. 
HEALTH  AND  BEAUTY.     Emily  S.  Bouton. 
SOCIAL  ETIQUETTE.     Emily  S.  Bouton. 
LOOKING     FORWARD.        Illustrated     Visi 

World's  Fair. 

Tor  Sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  -will  be  sent  postpaid  on 
receipt  of  trice  by  the  Pub  Us  her 


FATHER  STAFFORD 

BY   ANTHONY    HOPE. 

The  Most  Remarkable  of  Mr.  Hope's  Stories. 


Minneapolis        "  This  story  is  in  the  genuine  Hope  style 
Tribune  and  for  that  reason  will  be  widely  read." 

Public  Ledger,        "  '  Father  Stafford  "  is  extremely  clever, 
Philadelphia  a  bold  privateer  venturing  upon  the 

high  seas.'' 

San  Francisco        "  It  is  a  good  story,  the  strong  parts  of 
Chronicle  which  are  the  conflict  between  love  and 

conscience  on  the  part  of  a  young  Anglican  priest.     The 
charm  of  the  book,  however,  lies  in  the  brisknessof  the  dia 
logue,  which  is  as  tincly  liuished  as  any  of  Hope's  novels." 
Nashville       "  'Father  Stafford'  is  a  charming  story.    The 
IJaiiner  whole  book  sustains  the  reputation  that  An 

thony  Hope  has  made,  and  adds  another  proof  that  as  a 
portrayer  of  characters  of  sharp  distinctness  and  individ 
uality,  he  has  no  superior." 

Evening          "  A  writer  of  great  merit.    .    .    .    Mr.  Hope's 
Wisconsin         work  has  a  quality  of  straightforwardness 
that  recommends  it  to  readers  who  have  grown  tired  of 
the  loaded  novel." 

1'hillipsburg        "  This  is  considered  by  his  critics  to  be  one 
.journal  of  the  strongest,  most  beautiful  and  in 

teresting  novels  Mr.  Hope  has  ever  written.  There  is  not 
a  dull  line  in  the  entire  volume." 

Amusement        "The  dialogue  is  bright  and  worldly,  and 
<iazutt«  the  other  characters  do  not  suffer  because 

so  prominent  is  the  hero  ;  they  are  well  drawn,  and  quite 
out  of  the  ordinary." 

Vanity,  "  A  very  interesting  narrative,  and  Mr.  Hope 

New  York         tells  the  story  after  that  fashion  which   he 

would  seem  to  have  made  peculiarly  his  own." 
Kansas  City       "  There  is  something  more  than  the  romance 
Journal  of  the  action  to  hold  the  reader's  rnind.  It 

is  one  of  the  author's  best  productions." 
Every  Saturday,       "Anthony  Hope  is  a  master  of  dialogue, 
Klgiii,  151.  and  to  his  art  in  this  particular  is  due 

the  enticing  interest  which  leads  the  reader  on  from  page 
to  page." 

Hebrew         "The  strife  between  the  obligation  of  a  vow  of 

Standard  celibacy  and  the  promptings  of  true  love  are 

vividly  portrayed  in  tins  little  book.    .    .    .    It  contains  an 

admirable  description  of  English  country  life,  and  is  well 

written." 

Boston  Daily       "  It  has  enough  of   the  charm  of  the  au- 
(jlohe  tlior's  thought  and  style  to  identify  it  as 

characteristic,  and  make  it  very  pleasing." 

Buckram,  Gilt  Top.      Retail,  75  Cents. 


IN  THE  QUARTER. 

BY    ROBERT    W.    CHAMBERS. 

Author  of  "The  King  in  Yellow." 

PRESS   NOTICES: 

New  York       "It  Is  a  story  of  life  in  Paris.    .    .    that  has 
World  good  descriptions  of  dramatic  scenes." 

Book  Buyer,        "  It  is  a  story  of  a  man  who  tried  to  recon- 
New  York  cile  irreconcilable  facts.    .    .    Mr.  Cham 

bers  tells  it  with  a  happy  choice  of  words,  thus  putting  'to 
proof  the  art  alien  to  the  artists.'  .  .  It  is  not  a  book  for 
the  unsophisticated,  yet  its  morality  is  high  and  unmis 
takable.  .  ." 

Brooklyn  Citizen        "Full  of  romantic  incidents.    .    ." 
Boston  Courier        "Interesting novel  of  French  life.    .    .' 
Boston  "A  story  of  student  life  written  with  dash  .   . 

Traveller         and  surety  of  handling.    .    ." 
Boston        "Well    written,    bright,   vivid;    the   ending  is 
Times  highly  dramatic." 

New  York  "Charming story  of  Bohemian  life,  with  ita 

Sunday  World  buoyancy,  its  romance,  and  its  wild  joy  of 
youth  .  .  .  vividly  depicted  in  this  graceful  lale  byone 
who.  like  Daudet,  knows  his  Paris.  Some  pages  are  ex 
quisitely  beautiful." 

Philadelphia       "Idyllic— charming.    Mr.  Chambers' story 
Bulletin  is  delicately  told." 

N.  Y.  Evening       "It  is  a  good  story  in  its  way.    It  is  good 
Telegram  in  several  ways.    There  are  glimpses  of 

the  model  and  of  the  grisette— all  dainty  enough.     The 
most  of  it  might  have  come  from  so  severe  a  moralist  as 
George  Eliot  or  even  Bayard  Taylor.    .    ." 
N.Y.  Commercial       "Avery  vivid  andtouchingly  told  story. 
Advertiser  The  tale  is  interesting  because  it  re 

flects  with   fidelity  the  life  led    by  certain  sets  of  art 
students.    A  genuine  romance,  charmingly  told." 
Congregationalist,       "Vivid,  realistic.     There  is  much  ol 
Boston  nobility  in  it.    A  decided  and  excel 

lent  moral  influence.  It  is  charmingly  written  from  cover 
to  cover.  .  ." 

Vogue,  "The  author  is  to  be  congratulated  on  the  liter- 

New  Y'ork  ary  skill  shown  in  what  is  reported  to  be  his 
first  attempt  at  novel  writing,  his  characterization  being 
especially  clerer.  The  author  treats  his  theme  with  a  re 
finement  that  softens,  but  does  not  gloss  over,  the  excesses 
of  temptations  that  beset  youths :  and  he  shows  himself 
keenly  observant  of  everyday  life  of  the  Latin  Quarter.  .  ." 
Cloth,  $1.25.  Paper,  50  Cents. 

R.  TENNYSON    NEELV. 

CHICAGO.  NEW  YORK. 


The  King  in  Yellow. 

BY  ROBERT  W.    CHAMBERS. 


Edward       "  The  author  is  a  genius  without  a  living  equal, 
Ellis  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  in  his  peculiar  field.    It 

is  a  masterpiece.  ...  I  have  read  many  portions  sev 
eral  times,  captivated  by  the  unapproachable  tints  of  the 
painting.  None  but  a  genius  of  the  highest  order  could 
do  such  work." 

N.  Y.  Commercial       "The  short  prose  tale  should  be  a  syn- 
Advertiser  thesis  :  it  was  the  art  of  Edgar  Poe, 

it  is  the  art  of  Mr.  Chambers.  .  .  .  His  is  beyond  ques 
tion  a  glorious  heritage.  ...  I  fancy  the  book  will 
create  a  sensation  ;  ...  in  any  case  it  is  the  most 
notable  contribution  to  literature  which  has  come  from  an 
American  publisher  for  many  years  ;  and  fine  as  the  ac 
complishment  is, '  The  King  in  Yellow '  is  large  in  promise. 
One  has  a  right  to  expect  a  great  deal  from  an  author  of 
this  calibre." 

Times-        "The  most  eccentric  little  volume  of  its  (little) 
Herald          day.    'The  King  in  Yellow'  is  subtly  fascinat 
ing,  and  compels  attention  for  its  style  and  its  wealth  of 
strange,  imaginative  force." 

New  York        "Mr.  Robert  W.  Chambers  does  not  have  a 
Times  system  to  work  up  to  ;  he  bus  r.o  fad,  save  a 

tendency  to  write  about  the  mar  velo'is  and  the  impossible; 
painting  pictures  of  romance  that  have  a  wild  inspiration 
about  them.  Descriptive  powers  of  no  mean  quality  are 
perceptible  in  this  volume  of  stories." 

The   N.  Y.       "Mr.  Chambers   has   a   great   command   of 
World  words:  he  is  a  good  painter.    His  situations 

are  most  delicately  touched,  and  som>3  of  his  descriptions 
are  exquisite.  He  writes  like  an  artist.  He  uses  colors 
rather  than  ideas.  .  .  .  The  best  drama  in  the  volume 
means  madness.  The  tenderest  fancy  is  a  sad  mirage. 
.  .  .  'The  King  in  Yellow'  is  a  very  interesting  contri 
bution  to  the  present  fund  of  materio-mysticism.  .  .  . 
To  read  Mr.  Chambers'  little  book  is  to  escape  from  the  ac 
tual  on  poetical  wings." 

Minneapolis       "They  have  a  mysterious,  eerie  air  about 
Tribune  them  that  is  apt  to  stimulate  the  reader's 

curiosity." 

Philadelphia        "Charming,  delicate,  skillful,  vivid." 
Times 

Philadelphia        "  Expected  to  make  a  sensation,  charming, 
Item  full  of  color  and  delicately  tinted." 

Cleveland        "  It  is  wondrous  strong,  dramatic,  full  of  color, 
Gazette  weird,  uncanny,  picturesque,  and  yet  a  gem 

of  exquisite  coloring,  dreamy,  symbolic,  exciting." 
Detroit        "  'The  King  in  Yellow'  compels  attention." 
Journal 

Denver       '-Treated  in  a  most  fascinating  way!     Weird, 
Times  mysterious,  powerful!" 

Buckram,  Gilt  Top.      Retail,  75  Cents. 


A     000  541  572     4 


